


In Their Care

by aronnaxs



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works, The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Incest, M/M, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-13
Updated: 2014-04-25
Packaged: 2018-01-15 14:07:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 31,846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1307584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aronnaxs/pseuds/aronnaxs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After years of strife, Thranduil is determined to give Legolas a celebration that he won't forget for the 1000th anniversary of his begetting day. Elrond takes an interest in the beautiful prince, unknowing of the conflicting feelings Thranduil is facing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [celebrain](https://archiveofourown.org/users/celebrain/gifts).



> This was for 'thranduil's white gem' on tumblr who I planned this story with for a while. I was originally going to upload it in one but as I was writing it, it kept getting longer and longer so it will be in parts! Hope you enjoy it, my dear :)

T.A. 2700

The journey to Mirkwood was long and uneventful for the elves of Imladris. Though there had been concern about orc packs on the road and the unpredictable weather and landscape of the Wilderness, all were pleased when the venture failed to make true these worries. They passed unhindered and unburdened through the Misty Mountains, forded the Anduin in bright daylight and crossed the pleasant rolling hills beneath the Carrock without a glimmer of trouble. Nobody dared breathe a word of complaint. 

Even when they reached the borders of the great woods itself, its branches twisted and ancient above them, the breeze still blew tranquilly, the sound of distant birdsong in the air. It was only when they entered onto the Old Forest Road did the first rumbles of discomfort shiver through the travelling group.

Many had heard whisper and rumour of their strange kin in this part of the world. Far back in their own land, the Hidden Valley was a place of order and serenity, untouched by the turnings of Arda and for the most part, cleansed of its pain and suffering. In the peaceful, lovely times they had spent on their journey, the views had not been so different. But, as soon as they laid foot in the gnarled embrace of Mirkwood, the imprint and eternal capture of times long past was as clear, and as inherent, as the safety of Imladris. Every tree and every leaf seemed to breathe memory itself, like the very forest thrived on it. Only one look was needed to know of the depth and age in the land around them. It felt almost as though the whole area was throbbing with life, watching them, observing their every movement and retaining it in its living soul. 

For those who had not seen much of life beyond the fine and fair, the impression struck a hesitant awe into their hearts. At the front of the delegation, Lord Elrond listened, with some amusement, to their hushed whispers, low and wary as if the trees were prying on them. Some were younger and more innocent of the world, but many were simply unused to such an ominous power surrounding them; not soothing and blissful like the hand of Imladris, but darker and filled with a dangerous resonance. He recalled the first time he had stepped into Mirkwood, felt the heaviness of its years pressing down upon him and the profound presence it had exuded. He would never forget it. So it was with some deal of entertainment that he overheard the murmured praises and doubts about the woodland around them.

However, Elrond had other things to consider other than the domain they now rode through. His mind lay far beyond them, down in the palace of the wood elves' monarch. Many months ago, he had received an invitation to a most important of events, hosted by none other than King Thranduil himself. Thranduil's son, Prince Legolas, would be celebrating his one thousandth begetting day very soon and a party was being held in his honour, surely a most lavish and exceptional affair. Elrond, a close friend of Thranduil's for many ages, could not refuse. Long had it been since the two elves had seen one another and the last time the Lord of Imladris had laid eyes on the Prince of Mirkwood, he had been a reclusive, withdrawn young ellon, still suffering greatly with the death of his dear mother. Now it was centuries on and Elrond was curious and eager to find out how his kin was faring beyond the mountains.

Despite the rather oppressive aura, they passed mostly unharmed through the woods. Every now and then, a stray vine or branch would catch on one of the troupe's arm and cause a fluster of unnerved frustration but there was no sign of any of the foul creatures Elrond had heard talk of. The forest seemed relatively still, even if it was a more unfamiliar kind of still. No doubt they were being observed and protected by elven eyes high in the trees.

For much of the journey, Lindir had been riding alongside him. He had surprised Elrond in being quite eager to accompany him for the trip. There was no love lost between the Noldor and the Sindar but the most prominent reason for Elrond's astonishment was Lindir's previous hesitation about the woodland king. He remembered the days of the Last Alliance when the minstrel had had few complimentary words about the late Oropher and his serious son. Upon Thranduil's former visits to Imladris, Lindir had seemed to stay out of his way, other than with official business. For him to appear even as if he was enjoying himself now while travelling to that same king's realm was bemusing to see.

"Lindir, you amaze me," Elrond commented to his friend as they edged closer to the woodland realm. "I never thought that you would voluntarily set foot in Thranduil's own territory."

Lindir merely smiled and shook his head. "I am not one to hold grudges, my lord. It has been many years since I saw King Thranduil. Maybe he is not as my imagination conjures him up to be."

Elrond laughed. His friend certainly did have a rather overwhelming character. He had always been quite serious and dominating, even in his youthful days in Lindon, and for a long while, Elrond had steered clear of him. He was known to be quite arrogant and cold, an enigma not many could solve, just like his wise father. However, once the two had spent more time in each other's company, Elrond found that he was not as intimidating or unfriendly as others may talk about. For many centuries now, they had remained close. 

After the death of Oropher and then Thranduil's loving wife, however, the woodland king had sunk further and further back into his defences. He had few close companions now, the main one being his sole son who he treasured more than anything in the world. It had been too long since Elrond had met with him, and he wished to change the image of the almost awkward, grieving youth in his mind. 

"He is certainly one you have to be patient with," Elrond finally replied to Lindir, who was glancing around at the odd landscape around them. "If there is any who embodies his kingdom most, it is Thranduil."

"That is what I fear." Lindir's voice sounded speculative for a moment but then he smiled again and returned his gaze to the path before them. "I have heard much whisper about his son, however. I greatly desire to see him. He was but an elfling the last time I met him in Imladris."

"Yes. Apparently he is an elfling no more and has grown into a strong young warrior. It would not surprise me - his father was always known as one of the most skilled youths in Lindon."

"I recall it well." Lindir had only been young then but already granted with a wise and almost suspicious nature. It was a trait that had never left him. "He used to make me feel about five inches tall."

Elrond smiled. "I believe that all who met him felt that way. I did too when we first talked. But you become accustomed to him after some time, trust me. You will find his heart is not cold all of the time. After all, I doubt this event for Legolas will be a small and haphazard affair."

"I suppose not." Lindir paused for a while. When he next spoke, Elrond could not help but notice the amusement in his voice and the slight redness upon his cheeks. "And I have heard word that the prince has become quite the beauty now he has grown older. It is rather legendary, judging by what has been spoken."

The lord of Imladris chuckled, even more so at Lindir's endearing shyness at the statement. "Who exactly have you been talking to to hear such things, Lindir? Is this the reason for your travel with me?" he asked. Lindir floundered and uttered a quiet "well-" but Elrond merely smiled. "No, it is something that I have heard of too. Again, though, it would not surprise me - both of his parents are of a very fair nature, if not one so much in personality."

"I thought you said that he was not so terrible."

Elrond grinned. "I am only playing with you, dear Lindir. It is something you will have to get used to in this realm. Nothing is ever quite what it seems."

Lindir's face betrayed his anticipation hidden inside. He tried to mask it with his next words. "I am accustomed to your sons' tricks and taunts. It is not as though my life in the Hidden Valley has been an entirely peaceful one."

Elrond laughed again. He was grateful now that Lindir had decided to come along for the excursion. The minstrel never failed to amuse him, even if he did not intend to. "I think the whims of the woodland realm are slightly more demanding than Elladan and Elrohir's little jokes. Speaking of my sons, where have they got to?" 

Lindir turned, looking to the back of the neat row of elves riding closely behind them. He peered, trying to work out the dark heads of Elrond's twin sons amongst the crowd. Many had willingly made the journey to Mirkwood, although it was long and potentially perilous, being allured by the prospect of King Thranduil's infamous parties and the chance to meet the Woodland Prince once again. No doubt Elladan and Elrohir wished to rekindle their former friendship with the young elf. Despite initial trepidation, knowing the mischief the two had tried to instigate when Legolas used to visit the Hidden Valley, Elrond had gradually warmed to the idea. Their minds had been occupied with darker, more troublesome thoughts, of late, pining for retribution in wake of the abuse of their mother at the hands of orcs. Two hundreds years after her passing into Valinor, the grief was still raw and they were dealing with it in vastly different ways to Elrond. After time to think of it, he had considered it wise to allow the twins to accompany them and find some relaxation. If such a thing could be possible at Thranduil's affairs.

Now they rode in the long line of elves entering deeper and deeper into the heart of the woodland realm. It would not be long until they reached the fortified palace gates; Elrond could already hear the distant rushing of the Forest River which ran through Thranduil's halls. Idly, he wondered what awaited them there. Despite the obvious hesitation of some of the group, he knew it would be good for them, for similar reasons that it would be good for his sons. Although Imladris would ever be a place of peace and serenity, the shadow of Celebrían still lingered in all their hearts, none yet fully coming to terms with her departure. Elrond had tried to rest his darkened mind but two centuries on, the anguish still festered somewhere deep inside of him, as he knew it did with many others. When she had left, she had made them promise to be happy, to continue living their lives in joy as she would in the Undying Lands. Elrond pined to fulfil his lovely wife's parting wish.

And, no matter what his companions thought, the two elven settlements were not so different in some respects, both having lost a beautiful part of their lives to other circles of the world. They may all be surprised at what they found in the home of the woodland king. He just hoped it was a more pleasant kind of surprise...

~~~

It had been a very long time since any visitors had arrived in the woodland realm. For centuries, King Thranduil had not looked very positively onto the idea of travelling guests, other than a select number. He had preferred the company of his close kith and kin within the walls of the palace, away from the tumult of the outer world. At first, this policy had only been intended to be a passing thing, one that would be lifted after the kingdom had begun to recover after his wife's disappearance. He had ignored the calls of the folk beyond and allowed his population to grieve on their own terms. But slowly the benefits and relative peace of the temporary isolation had sunk in and Thranduil had resented the thought of allowing such free access to his long-suffering home again. For many years now, the reputation of Mirkwood had been one of a reclusive and suspicious nature. 

Yet Thranduil saw no reason why it should not be. The land on which he lived and the people who he shared his life with had seen and experienced enough turmoil in their days. It would be folly to think that it should not come again. But this time, they would be prepared, and not hit so hard when the darkness reappeared in earnest. He could already feel it at times, seeping in from the corners of their world, ready to challenge them in new and bitter ways. When it arrived, they would strike at it in the knowledge that they had done all they could to ready themselves. And this would come by looking at their own resources, surviving alongside one another in the tight community they had formed in the woods, away from the rest of Arda's concerns. 

Yet this party coming into his domain that day had a very important reason for visiting. It was the 1000th anniversary of Legolas' begetting day and Thranduil intended to throw a lavish, unforgettable event for his lovely, cherished son. Despite their nature of isolation, the prince's life had at times, still been infected with anguish and trouble. Thranduil had done all that he could to protect him but even inside the fortress, sorrow could creep, deadly and poisonous. 

When Legolas had been a mere elfling, his mother had vanished into the labyrinth of the woods, leaving Thranduil to raise the frightened, confused child alone. He had striven at the difficult task as best as he could, relentlessly trying to balance it with the high politics and frustration of kingship. It hadn't been easy and both had suffered but through the bitter, long years, they had formed a strong bond, alone in the corner of the forest, and aided each other's seemingly endless, often arduous recovery. 

Now Thranduil wished to reward his beautiful son, to celebrate both the joy he had brought to his life and the continuing journey he would also be taking in the rest of his days. He was determined that it would be perfect. And if that meant relaxing his rigid policy and inherent distrust of many from outside their familiar realm, then he would find a way to compensate that.

However, the group riding through his land that morning were not truly unknown. Most of them the king had been acquaintances, and in some cases, friends with, for long ages, although he had not seen them for many passings of the seasons. Lord Elrond, his children, the wise elves of Imladris... He remembered them all well and sometimes would lament on the infrequency of their meetings. Although their outlooks on the world were very different, his people often seemed to find joy in their presence. Already, he could feel the change; the gladly greeted breath of relief as promised happiness appeared on the horizon. This party that night would be beneficial to all. Long had it been since they had shared their home with any.

The intricate preparations for the festivities had also given Thranduil's swarming mind something else to focus on. For centuries, he had felt something lurking deep inside of himself: remnants from his tempestuous life before, memories of his dear wife, anticipation growing in the heart of the forest... He had tried to atone the wounds of his past yet they seared deep and out of his desperate grasp. But, some days, some nights, he thought there was something else itching within him, something he could not quite understand, something he innately knew that he did not want to understand, though he knew not what it was. It bothered him and at times, drove him from a healing rest yet always, upon awakening, it would dart out of his comprehension. There was nothing he could do though. Forcing himself to imagine what the distant illusions may be only drove it further from his mind. And somehow, he knew he wanted to avoid realising what it truly was... 

That day, though, there were other matters, in the real world, to consider.

Late in the morning, Thranduil received word that the group were approaching the citadel. The journey from Imladris could often be perilous, a way of secret passes and fast-flowing rivers, and he was glad to hear of their safety. He recalled the ventures he and Legolas used to take to the Hidden Valley many years ago; only when he had come within sight of the Last Homely House did he feel at ease for travelling without hindrance. And merely two centuries ago, he had heard word of Elrond's own wife being waylaid by orcs in the Redhorn Pass. Times were darkening. Yet this night, they would try not to think of such things; Legolas deserved to have a celebration that he would not forget. 

Thranduil smiled as he thought of how much the boy would be spoiled. He knew being the king's son could be a burden at times but he was determined to make it a benefit for him that evening. For days, he had been personally involved in the organisations, from the most menial affairs to the most important. At first, he had wanted to keep it as a surprise for Legolas but it soon became impossible to hide it from him. Yet the prince was ever gracious and turned a blind eye to it, albeit with a sly, knowing smile. Thranduil rejoiced to be able to give him something to feel excited over. Sometimes he feared he was too serious, too sheltered, too like his father.

And Thranduil would do anything to protect him from that fate. For many reasons. 

At that moment, Legolas was outside with his friends in the guard. Most had ventured into the woods to protect the arriving elves but a few had stayed behind, at the gates of the fortress, to be with their prince. Even though it was his day of begetting, a time for great celebration, he had still opted to train with his bow and arrow and swords. He was ever dedicated to his own fitness and prowess for future battles. Thranduil was proud of him, his heart never failing to glow when he saw how much of a strong, skilful warrior his son was becoming, though the idea of Legolas having to use these talents worried him endlessly. He dreaded a day when that would have to occur. 

Still, he could not tell him to stop, Legolas' determination being too strong. He had been the same when he was younger, always focused on proving himself time and time again. His father had made sure he was prepared for the worst at all times. But when the worst had happened, he could never have been ready for it. 

These dark thoughts were never far from Thranduil's mind, lost in the tendrils he always tried to lock away. Again, he thought of how good it would be to banish them, or rather, carve a longer distance between them, for a while. It would be cathartic to host another of his festivities, the type he used to be infamous for, if he recalled correctly. He knew many from the Hidden Valley were coming for that notion, one he hoped to reignite.

As the morning stretched into afternoon, he was informed that the travelling visitors were almost at the gates to the fortress. Without ceremony, they were let in and Thranduil ordered a small few to come before his throne. Judging by the words of the guard, there were many arrivals; something the king had not expected. 

He recognised the five elves immediately as they approached the dais. Though long centuries had passed, the influence of immortality had meant that their looks had altered in barely noticeable ways. They were different from the Silvan folk of the woods; taller, stronger built than some of his people, and sharper in facial features. Their names would ever be known to him - at their front, Lord Elrond, for many years a friend, followed by his advisor, Erestor, his twin sons, Elladan and Elrohir (Thranduil immediately feared the mischief they may cause later that day), his lovely daughter, Arwen and the famed Lord Glorfindel, once a great hero of the youthful Thranduil, much to his father's displeasure. 

Yet it was Elrond who Thranduil focused on the most that day. Seeing him re-awoke the memories of his younger days in Lindon, far away in the West. There had been bliss there once and he had shared that with the Peredhil, day and night. He felt glad to welcome him and his kin into the secluded realm, an age on. Still, he wondered, though their outward appearances had not changed, if their inner ones had.

As they approached the throne, he greeted them warmly, coming a few steps down to be nearer to their level. The hesitation that had been hidden on some of their faces eased a little. "Welcome to Mirkwood," he said simply. "I have heard that your journey was fair and calm. I hope I have not been informed wrongly."

"You have not, King Thranduil," Elrond replied, the title coming easily from his lips though he could see some uncertainty in his eyes. "We had the sensation of being watched in the foothills of the Misty Mountains but this was all. The land seems peculiarly quiet."

"There is something lurking just out of our grasp, Lord Elrond. Slowly it is revealing itself in other parts of this world and we must be wary." Thranduil noticed the subtle glances Elrond's party gave each other as he spoke, no doubt curious of this talk, or rather, unsure of this king who spoke about it. He continued regardless. "Still, you will be safe in these halls. I wish you a pleasant time. Rooms have already been prepared for you in our guest wing, which has not often been used, as you may realise. But our hospitality will be extended graciously to you."

"We are grateful for that, King Thranduil. Too long has it been since we have met."

"Indeed." Thranduil looked them over once more, staring back at him with a mix of emotions written across their faces, and then turned to Elrond again. "My guards will show you to your rooms. I expect you desire to rest after your long journey. Your night will be long."

Not wanting to keep them unnecessarily, Thranduil nodded to the guards who had led the group to the throne room and they began to escort them out again. The king held up a hand to allow Elrond to stay behind. When they had gone, he finally came the rest of the distance onto the dais, letting his gaze rove slowly over the half-elf. "Your presence has been missed, Lord Elrond," he said. "There is much I desire to talk to you about and hear your wise thoughts on, for I feel sensations in my mind that I cannot quite grasp. But I wish for this party to transpire without fault or distraction. It is of paramount importance to me that Legolas enjoys himself. Make sure he is not harmed or taken advantage of in any manner."

Elrond frowned, confusion crossing his countenance. "What are you saying, Thranduil?" he asked. 

"I am asking you to be my eyes and ears where I am not. There will be many who wish his attention for impure reasons - I have seen them throughout the years - and they will use this event as a selfish way to get what they want."

"I do not think that such a thing -"

"Once you have see my son, Lord Elrond, you will understand. Trust me. Keep him in the party and within our care. I will not have him harmed in any way." 

Elrond continued to frown, obviously displeased with this order. Yet he could not argue with Thranduil; the elf would always get what he asked. He found he had to agree. At this, a small smile graced Thranduil's lips. "Very well," he said. "It will be a large weight off my shoulders. I thank you for your help. You may leave now. A guard will show you the way."

Elrond nodded and began to depart from the dais. Thranduil knew his mind must be reeling from this strange request but he had felt it necessary to ask it of him. Legolas would not be taken so crudely away from him, especially not this night when so many would be watching his every move. He would guard him, no matter what. And if that meant taking this precautions, then so be it.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is my longest update for a fic I've done wooo. Sorry it took a while to write but here we to :) Thank you all for the feedback so far and thranduil's white gem I hope you continue to enjoy it too :D

Early into the evening, Legolas sat before the ornate mirror in his chambers, awaiting the arrival of the assistants his father had sent for him. There was a mere hour before the celebrations in his name began and he was still yet to know what was truly happening. Of course, in such a tightly knit community, it was impossible to keep the affairs secret from him and for weeks, he had been aware that a party would be occurring, yet he understood nothing further than that. He was not sure how he felt about such a thing. On the one hand, the suggestion of a joyful festivity was an exciting and hopeful one. The state of his father's realm had been sombre for as long as he could remember. Although relative peace had been brought to the kingdom, many still ached and suffered in the isolation brought upon them. Legolas thought they fully deserved to have an evening of enjoyment. 

Yet, at the same time, the notion of being unaware unnerved him somewhat. He did not know who was coming, what would be happening, what would be expected of him... The idea of disappointing anyone always weighed heavily on his mind, from the most simple of occasions to the most momentous. And his father could be an unpredictable one sometimes. No one ever knew what was occurring in that tangled mind of his.

It was a trait that Legolas was very sure he had inherited from him. 

As he looked into the glass before him, he saw an elf that many would still deem very young. It was the trick of immortality that the Firstborn retained their youthful features throughout the millennia and ages they lived, ageing only in unnoticeable slow ways after a certain time. Legolas had not seen any difference in himself for nigh on five hundred years. He doubted he ever would do.

But beyond his appearance, however, he felt that not much else had changed either. Since his younger days, he had always felt the great influence of responsibility and seriousness pressing down upon him. The title of prince came with its own encumbrances yet it had been so much more than that for almost as long as he could remember. Once, he could recall true light in this forest, the radiant warmth of his mother's beauty and love but after that, the illuminations had seemed false and harsh. Still they did not know where she had gone. But Legolas had resigned himself to the thought many hundreds of years ago that she was not coming back from that elusive place.

He had been introduced to these brutalities of the world at a very young age, both the visible and the unseen ones. After the loss of his wife, Thranduil had retreated into an nearly hollow shell, refusing to see anybody, denying all but the company of himself and his grief. Although he had not even crossed the threshold into adulthood yet, Legolas had found a great burden laying down atop him, to coax the realm back from its despair. For many years, he hardly saw his father - just when he needed him the most.

He could not bear a grudge against them though. He forced himself to understand his situation and felt deep, terrible sympathy for him. When he considered it, he realised that his long absence caused him to love him even more. He pined for his presence, longed to have his strength by his side again.

The day he at last returned, his face drawn and pale and soul clinging to the last fibres of life, he knew that nothing could ever be the same again. Thranduil revisited his place as king, sitting back upon his high throne, and the first order he decreed was one to tighten the perimeters and double the guard. The centuries of gloomy seclusion only became worse afterwards, echoing the long seasons his father had experienced away from his people. Yet now they were away from all other people, focusing on their own concerns, barring out the darkness. At least that which existed and festered on the outside. 

Their own troubles were trapped inside with them.

Legolas didn't think that his father liked to admit the years he had spent away from his son in his time of need. He was almost certain that he had created some other story of solidarity in his head to live with. After Thranduil had returned to the throne, their relations had improved somewhat, beginning to find support in one another. Thranduil had raised him the rest of the way out of his childhood - though if he was honest, he had thought that his childhood had ended long ago - and they strove through the difficult times together. 

They had never truly had a peaceful bond, but the tragedy had brought them closer in a way and they were enclosed in the realm with each other for their main company. It had been claustrophobic and so, their union was fractured yet Legolas had survived by his father's side and Thranduil had survived by his son's. It was all that they could ask.

Legolas hoped that he had made his father proud of him, and that he hadn't let him down in that crucial time. They did not speak of their thoughts very often and for this, Legolas was somewhat glad. He had no clue what he would say to his father, what he could possibly utter to convey how he felt. 

But how did he feel? He did not know. Many things - conflict, confusion, lingering sadness, strange thoughts that had gathered over their times of loneliness... They all focused around the solitary realm and his own father. He had been the main force in his life for so long and he craved for him to hold him in the high regard he did of him, to love him, to embrace him, to.... The notions he held ran deep, some existing just out of his realisation. He thought he was tricking himself, conjuring up ideas of disappointment his father did not even have, but to live a life of enforced desolation meant to be inherently suspicious of all. 

Including himself.

But what disturbed him most of all were the dreams he had. Only vague, fleeting images yet ones that made him shake and tremble all throughout the night and the day. He did not fully understand them, never quite seeing, only sensing and hearing within them, but something told him he knew what they were. And it made his heart freeze and ache. To acknowledge such things would destroy himself and this realm even more.

So he ignored them, or at least, as best as he could. They merely existed just outside of his conscience, a dark cloud that washed over him sometimes but was thankfully kept mostly at bay. There was enough strife in his days without it.

Still, he looked forward to the party that evening. His father had spent much time preparing for it and that in itself made Legolas smile a little. Thranduil had used to have been known by quite a few to host lavish, decadent events. It would be quite something to experience one, he thought. Even if he didn't know exactly what was happening. 

Soon, a knock on the door drew him out of his reveries. He called for them to enter and Thranduil's specially appointed servants came into the room. A brief surge of excitement danced inside of him, knowing that the time of the event was approaching quickly. 

That night would be good for them all. 

~~~

For such a forlorn realm, Elrond had been awestruck at how much luxury lay over the prince's party in the grand hall. From floor to high ceiling, decorations and ornate intricacies had been weaved over the pillars and walls, illuminating them with glints of shining silver and gold. All over the room, tables had been put out, laden with rich fabrics and positioned in such a way as to frame a wide space for dancing in the centre. It was enclosed by softly glowing lights, which ran the whole length of the huge cavern and bathed it in an orange glow, only broken by the presence of traces of moonlight seeping through from distant cracks in the rock. Everything was utterly breath-taking. He had to applaud Thranduil for what he had achieved here.

Now, the festivities had been running for a couple of hours. With Lindir at his side, he was sitting at one of the places nearer to the two thrones at the head of the room, engaging in light conversation after the vastness of the feast that they had just finished. Nearly all around him were full with the delicious food yet ready and willing for the rest of the night, which he was certain would be long. He quite looked forward to what may be in store.

Surrounding him at his table were many of the elves from Imladris known most to Thranduil and his son; Elladan and Elrohir, Arwen, Glorfindel, Erestor and some others who used to care for Legolas as a child. He enjoyed their company yet there were hundreds in the grand hall who he did not know, or had not seen for centuries: the elves from Lothlórien, Silvans from the woods, Thranduil and Legolas' own friends who he thought he may have been introduced to. The set up of the groups was typical of the woodland king though - separated into their own kith and kin and apart from others. It was quite humorous in a way; he was sure others had noticed.

However, for most of the evening, their own companions had not been the only things on their mind. It was impossible to deny the amount of times Elrond had seen many turning to gaze upon the one this party was in aid of - Legolas, Prince of the Woodland Realm. He had truly been the centre of attention that night. 

The royal elf was nothing like Elrond remembered him. Gone were the awkward, sad appearances of his youth and the resistant shyness he had always seemed to display. Now he sat before them, a wondrously radiant beauty, golden hair draping over his strong shoulders, a sturdy but alluringly lithe frame and a face of such fairness Elrond was unsure that he had seen many who had matched him. He was the truly his father's son, yet gentler and with an enticing innocence about him. Elrond had craved to talked to him since he had laid eyes upon him hours previously. 

He was certain he was not the only one.

This must have been exactly what Thranduil had talked to him of. If he was honest, when Thranduil had earlier charged him with the task of guarding his son's wellbeing, he had been a little confused. It had been a completely unexpected request, even more bemusing by the way it was one of the first things spoken to him after their arrival in the woodland realm. His initial thought had been to refuse Thranduil, or consider what he had proposed as some strange display of his humour, yet the seriousness in the king's eyes had been impossible to avoid or ignore. He had meant it. He wanted Elrond to watch his son and keep him away from any who seemed to want to take advantage of him. In all sorts of ways. 

He had been unable comprehend it at first. Legolas was an adult, mature and wise, surely, and capable of deciding his own actions and what he desired. He did not need some odd kind of babysitter hovering around him, eyeing his every move. Elrond wondered if this is what Thranduil had been to him over the years, maintaining him in his close guard and sheltering him from the many forces of the world and its people.

He wouldn't have been surprised, considering what he had said to him. 

But finally getting to see Legolas later on that evening had pulled understanding from Elrond's mind. The elf was astoundingly beautiful and many obviously pined for his revered attention. Thranduil was acting as a concerned - if not, obviously concerned - protector, intent on keeping him joyful. Yet Elrond couldn't help wondering where Thranduil's notions of Legolas' happiness and the prince's true happiness began and ended. 

It was a clearly delicate situation he had found himself in.

He didn't wish to disappoint his friend though, not after so many years of being apart from him. His favour was very important to the Imladris elf.

So when Legolas ventured down from his high throne into the crowds, he kept his eye on him. From his place above them, Thranduil inclined his head in thanks. Elrond echoed the action graciously. The prince wasn't the most displeasing person to observe continuously, in any case...

Beside him, Lindir's gaze followed where he was looking, but assumedly not for the same purposes Thranduil had tasked him with. The minstrel had not been able to stop staring at the prince since he entered. Elrond found it half-amusing, half-distracting. "Lindir," he said at last with a wry smile. "Has someone caught your fancy?" 

Lindir immediately snapped around to turn to him, a trace of redness seeping over his cheeks. "My lord," he stammered. "I am simply admiring the effort King Thranduil has gone into to transform this room so expertly."

Elrond chuckled. "Is that so?" he grinned. "Well, yes, the king certainly has done a staggering feat. He has turned his hand quite impressively to adorning this room with decoration. But I think that your interests lie with another of his creations."

Lindir's eyes grew slightly wide. "My lord -"

"Ah, Lindir, it is alright. You, yourself, only said this morning that the prince had turned into 'quite the beauty'." He paused, a distant smile still on his face as he watched Legolas laughing with one of his fellow friends. "And he most definitely has."

Lindir shifted beside him, obviously uncomfortable at this turn in the conversation. Elrond tore his eyes from the lovely young prince and tried to rediscover his train of sensible thoughts. Thranduil had been right in his implications - Legolas certainly was very alluring, obviously appealing to many in the room. He must be prudent and not allow these strange notions take him over. They were very unlike him; far apart from his usual, cautious ways. He wondered what on earth had come over him. 

Suddenly, the sound of Lindir's gentle voice entered into his senses, seeming to appear as if from a great distance. He abruptly realised he had been staring into thin air, lost in his own mind. "My lord? My lord?" the minstrel was saying, a hand against his shoulder. "My lord, are you alright?"

Elrond shook his head to clear his hazy brain. He finally turned back to Lindir and at the sight of his concerned face, smiled and gave a small chuckle. "Ah, I do apologise, Lindir," he said. "I must have been caught in my own thoughts. Were you trying to say something to me?"

"No, my lord. You simply appeared to be in another world. I wondered what had happened."

Elrond laughed again and patted Lindir on the shoulder. A sensation of shame at being lain so unexpectedly low by the vision of Mirkwood's delightful prince spread through him, but he tried to cover it with humour. "I am sorry, Lindir," he repeated. "I must atone my habit of doing that. It is not fitting behaviour."

Lindir finally smiled back, nodding. "Very well, my lord."

Satisfied about marginally having avoided an embarrassing situation, Elrond turned back to the dance floor, keeping his gaze firmly on the other elves at the party. Without noticing them go, some of his companions had departed from the table and were currently trying to woo both elleths and ellons alike. Amused, he saw that Glorfindel had already attracted a train of starry-eyed admirers and was trying to escape from their interested interrogations to no avail. Once or twice, he would concede a brief waltz around the floor with them but then would attempt to dash away to safety. 

In his youth, Elrond remembered that he had always been envious of the golden haired warrior. He was brave and strong and extremely fair whereas Elrond, although more than capable with a sword, had instead displayed determination in his studies and academic knowledge. The elf had been undeniably popular with Elrond's kith and kin in Lindon and on more than one occasion, Elrond had doubted why Thranduil had been so interested in him, rather than the mighty soldier. All three had been close friends and comrades throughout the centuries yet for many years, Elrond had looked upon Glorfindel with jealous eyes.

That was far, far behind them now though. The respect between the three lords ran deep and they had been through much together. Thranduil had turned out to be a cherished companion of Elrond's, loyal and an infinitely dependable, courageous force. Long had it been since they had acted intimate with one another, but their bond in friendship was eternal. And that was exactly why the bizarre ideas in his head about the woodland king's son were unnerving him so very much. He had tasked him with his protection, his trusted eye, yet one look at Legolas was causing shivers to run down his spine. It was not what should have been happening to a controlled, wise, ancient elf.

Yet the prince was utterly enticing, he could at least admit that far. He was almost the exact image of his father when he was younger, as enchanting as the starlight, but with more shapely, delicate features; the influence of his charming mother. The mere sight of him reminded Elrond of the distant, fair days in Lindon with the scent and warmth of summer or the blossoming of spring flowers. He wanted to know everything about the elf, to spend hours of time in his fine presence. To watch him throughout the evening felt as though the troubles of his world simply vanished: the darkness, the heavy storm just out of their reaches, the grief still laying in his heart... He wanted to bring the prince a lifetime of happiness. 

Thranduil had wanted him to shield him but he feared that he would be lured into doing so much more than that, to go beyond what the king had desired. And he was not sure if he would be able to resist it.

A heady blush spread upon his cheeks to think of how weak he was being. Legolas was dangerously intoxicating, even without having said a word to him. He tried to find his long-forgotten control once more but soon was distracted by the sight of Glorfindel shifting closer and closer in the prince's direction. For the first time in millennia, a surge of envy abruptly rushed through his body. He tried to ignore it, and Glorfindel's obvious desires, yet was again quickly reminded of what Thranduil had asked of him: to keep any away from his son. This was the type of situation he had been talking about.

So, without thinking, he rose from his seat and made his way across the dance floor towards Legolas and Glorfindel. Half way across, he realised that he probably was not doing this for the reasons the king intended. But he kept walking anyway.

~~~

From his place next to his father, Legolas had been contentedly surprised at the sight of so many at his party. Upon entering, he had been greeted warmly by guests familiar to him, those he saw every day and was pleased to meet there, but also those he did not know so well or had not seen for years. They formed a great gathering, cheering and praising him as if he was some grand hero returning home, and he had been shocked that such a number could be interested in this event. Being so secluded in this realm, he had forgotten that there were still others on the outside who were familiar with him. It was a touching and welcome reminder of what lay beyond the gates of Mirkwood. 

He knew another may have found it laborious but he genuinely savoured the opportunity to converse with his guests. As soon as the feast was finished and an easy, comfortable air had descended over the room, he departed from his separated place at their head and joined the throng. At first, his father had not looked pleased at his hasty exit but had not stopped him from doing so. This was his party, after all.

To his joy, although all were respectful, many did not seem to be fazed by his position as prince, no matter how little they knew him personally. Legolas took full advantage of this, mingling amongst them and relishing the sensation of being treated as an equal. He had always seen himself as that, despite his noble birth. It was pleasant to see their barriers down, relaxed and enjoying themselves. Certainly, they needed it.

Amongst his kin, he also noticed elves from other settlements on Arda. They mixed together now the food had been cleared away and new, and old, friendships were formed or reforged. Much of his time he spent with the elves of Lothlórien and Imladris, re-meeting those who he had known in his youth. He was overjoyed to see Lindir, Erestor and Elladan and Elrohir once more, folk who had doted graciously on him centuries previously, and still seemed to do so. With them all surrounding him, he barely knew what they could possibly speak about, so much had occurred in their parting. But, before leaving them, he had promised to all that they would see each other again soon, over the period they would be staying and beyond. All appeared to be satisfied with this idea, although Legolas was not sure of the reality of it occurring, knowing his father's policies.

Still, in the hours they spent in one another's company that evening, they were happy and very amiable. He moved about the circles of tables, engaging in a wealth of interesting talk, and revered the chance to hear what was happening in the outside world. Some of the things they uttered made him pine for adventure and to wander beyond the borders of the woods yet he tried to ignore such cravings, knowing that to ponder on them now would only lead to tension.

So he soaked up all the images and knowledge that he could within the confines of the chamber, merely imagining what it may be like in the lands they talked about; if they would be as dark as the forest, as stricken with tangible unease... It was both refreshing, and unnerving to hear of.

With such good company, however, he could not dwell on such dark thoughts. He walked throughout the hall, always with someone by his side and always with a drink in his hand. A few times he would be called back to his father's throne, the king intent on checking his wellbeing and whatever glass he had with him, yet aside from that, he felt quite free for one night. He had to admit that it was very relieving.

As the evening went on, Legolas continued to drift back and forth between his guests. Eventually, he began to feel that he had talked with most in the room, with a wide variety of stories and tidings to share. They all piqued his interest, however there was yet one who he aimed to meet, somebody who had so far remained out of his grasp. 

The lord Elrond had been his father's friend for many ages. When Legolas had seen him amongst the crowd of people, he had immediately felt a desire to speak with him again. Long had it been since the Peredhel had cared for him as an elfling. But he could still remember the admiration he had held for him, the way he had looked up to his wisdom and generosity. He had always seemed like the complete opposite to his father, in both his willowy, dark-haired appearance and his benevolent, open manner. Each time Legolas had visited Imladris, he had always disappointed Elladan and Elrohir in being more interested in their father and his tales than their little tricks and games. Yet the ancient elf had a strange allure about him, something that sparked Legolas' curiosity. Centuries on, he still felt that inquisitiveness about the lord of Rivendell, and wished to know how he fared all this time later.

Finally, as he stood at the edge of the dance floor, quite a while after the feast had concluded, he found himself without anyone at his side, wanting his attention. Across from him, he noticed Lord Elrond was back at his table after being away the last time he had visited it. Glancing over, he discovered the Peredhel's eyes were already on him, dark orbs that almost made him shiver at the look in them. They ran over him, lingering in certain places, and Legolas suddenly felt very bare. He was surprised to realise how much it made his stomach flutter. 

But then, as quickly as he'd apprehended it, Elrond's gaze was gone, flickering off somewhere else. Legolas felt a vague pang of disappointment. Sometimes, he did not like being the centre of attention but to be the centre of attention to Elrond was quite an honour. 

He just about to move over to him and try to strike up a conversation when he suddenly became aware of another presence nearby. He turned to see the lord Glorfindel approaching, a large, affable smile on his face. Legolas peered up at him. He seemed to have grown even taller since he had last been to Imladris.

"Your highness -" he uttered, then bent to kiss his hand. Legolas tried hard not to stare, seeing his lips tarry on his skin. 

"Lord Glorfindel," he replied. "Long has it been."

"Yes." The golden haired elf beamed, still not letting go of him even when he stood again. "Too long. By the Valar, have you grown."

"Well, I was merely a child last time we met, my lord." 

"Can it really be that many millennia ago? It only feels like yesterday." 

"You are far older than I, my lord. Time must seem different to you."

"Maybe it does. The fair days of youth are far behind me now." He tilted his head, an almost mischievous look suddenly coming into his eyes. Before he knew what was happening, Legolas was being pulled towards him so his lips rested against his ear. He barely had time to react to such forwardness when the elf's lecherous next words dripped over him. "And please - call me Glorfindel. It sounds so much lovelier to hear screamed."

Legolas gasped, unable to stop himself. He blushed a deep shade of red and squirmed when Glorfindel gave his waist a daring squeeze. "Oh!" was the only thing he could manage.

But then, out of nowhere, a hand suddenly appeared on his shoulder, pulling him away from Glorfindel's lusty clinches. For an instant, he thought it would be his father, ready to thoroughly scold the elf for being so inappropriate. Yet, upon turning, he found it was the lord Elrond, staring at his friend with a firm, but vaguely amused, look on his face. "Lord Glorfindel, do you have no morals?" he taunted. "Can you not contain yourself, even at this most refined of affairs?"

"I am only joking, Lord Elrond," the other elf grinned. His eyes still stayed upon Legolas, making him shift slightly uneasily. "You know what I am like."

"Yes, and 'what you are like' may get your head mounted outside King Thranduil's gates, if he saw you doing what you just did." 

Glorfindel nodded, seeing the sense even in Elrond's jests. "You are right, as always, Lord Elrond," he conceded with a wink. "I apologise, your highness. You deserve to be far more spoiled than how I have treated you."

Legolas knew his face must be glowing from his cheeks right up to his ears but he simply smiled, inclining his head graciously. No matter what his father thought, he was fully aware of the effect he had on some people. As soon as he had come of age, their interests had strayed far beyond his friendship, desiring to have him as a life partner or, for some, just a beautiful, young lover. He had rejected them all, the prospect of what they were offering not seeming right for him to go through with. None of them were what he wanted. But what did he want? He was not sure. All he knew was that they all seemed to lack something that he couldn't quite comprehend. 

Now, he politely accepted Glorfindel's apology, not terribly affronted by his behaviour due to the elf's infamously playful nature. He had not meant anything by it. At least he didn't think so. "It is fine, lord Glorfindel. Just stay aware of my father."

Glorfindel chuckled softly. "I always am," he smirked. Legolas tried to ignore the still lascivious tone to his voice. He soon left his teasing though and placed a hand upon the prince's shoulder. "Well," he said, smiling more mundanely now. "I will leave you in Lord Elrond's capable care, your highness. I go to find Counsellor Erestor, wherever he may be hiding from all this fun. It has been a pleasure to see you again."

Glorfindel bowed, reaching to kiss Legolas' hand again. Elrond quirked a disapproving eyebrow at him and with a mirthful snicker, he rose. As he disappeared back into the crowd, the sound of his giggles seemed to remain behind with them. Elrond shook his head. "I apologise for Lord Glorfindel's behaviour, Prince Legolas," he said. "The elf does not know how to stop himself."

Legolas raised a hand in dismissal. "It is no concern, my lord. I am used to - um - amorous advances."

Elrond paused for a moment but then another smile broke out over his face. "I have heard."

Legolas turned his head in question but decided not to make Elrond elaborate on how he knew such a thing. Instead, he put a hand upon his breast and beamed welcomingly at him. "I'm sorry, my lord," he continued. "I have not have the opportunity to greet you properly yet. I have been meaning to do so since I saw you had visited. It is wonderful to have you here."

Elrond laughed. "You are ever the prince, your highness. I recall you used to receive me in a similar way when you were but a child. We always said that your diplomacy would have been excellent for our council chambers."

Legolas grinned. "I truly used to enjoy my time at Rivendell, Lord Elrond. Seeing so many familiar faces makes me pine to see her beauty again. How does she fare?" 

"She endures, Prince Legolas. But -" He looked about the crowded dance floor on which they still stood, hemmed in by the joyful, loud bunch of people. "Maybe this is not the most ideal place to talk. Shall we return to my table where it will be a little quieter?"

Legolas smiled. For some reason, the cordial, warm quality to Elrond's words made his stomach flutter once more. The first traces of a youthful blush again itched at the tips of his ears. "Gladly," he responded. "There is much that we can speak of."

~~~

For the best part of the next hours or so, Legolas thoroughly indulged in Elrond's company. They talked of many things, from reminiscent thoughts of the past to the health of Imladris and her inhabitants and the state of Mirkwood. Legolas was more than pleased to hear that beyond the Wilderness, events were mostly calm and relatively quiet in the elven settlements. Talk spread of attacks upon the Southern realm of Gondor but assurances were given of a strong alliance between the city and the newly created territory of Rohan, a land of great horsemen formed a couple of centuries previously. Legolas could tell such information of assaulting dark forces disturbed Elrond but he did not let it show too terribly. He merely gave the impression of a wary world, sitting in a time that was not quite peaceful yet not quite troubled.

Still, the news was far more optimistic than Legolas had dreaded. If he had simply listened to his father's forbiddings, he would have thought the whole of Arda was infected with terror and disaster. To hear Elrond's assurances and see his undamaged poise was quite relieving. His overwhelming concern was somewhat quelled; yet another reason he was glad for this party.

Aside from this, to see this hero of his youth again was very pleasant. He had been very intriguing to him when he was an elfling but now, centuries older, Elrond fascinated him even more. For most of the time as they sat in each other's company, he found he enjoyed merely listening to him rather than talking as much. He was infinitely wise and knowledgeable and Legolas had the blissful sensation that he was sitting in the presence of a great elf, almost like his father, but different to him in so many ways. Similar to Thranduil, he seemed as though (and Legolas knew it to be true) he had had a wealth of experience in the world and had gone through much in his long life. It made the prince exceptionally curious. 

However, unlike Thranduil, Elrond appeared far more willing to share his insight. He happily answered Legolas' questions, apparently enjoying doing so, and the younger elf felt spoiled, indulged with Elrond's generosity. He soaked up everything he could and hardly noticed the time flying past. On more than a few occasions, he felt as though he was viewing the world through different eyes and ideas.

But, as they got more and more comfortable in each other's occupancy, Legolas still could not help noticing the looks that Elrond gave him. Like he had briefly seen before while he stood on the dance floor, his gaze lingered upon him affectionately, yet something in the back of Legolas' head told him it was not just for reasons of conversation. It should have made him feel embarrassed or awkward, as Glorfindel's persistent stare had, but it didn't in the slightest. Instead, he savoured it highly, shivers trickling down his spine every now and then. He was captivated to feel that, after some time, an indescribable, subtle tension began to grow between them. It thrilled him. He had never experienced something quite like it before. It was impossible not to wonder if Lord Elrond felt it as well.

He knew Thranduil must be staring at them. It was like the elder elf almost had a sense when someone was getting too near Legolas. Now he was older, Legolas liked to think that he was not too obsessive about it - at least not as much as he had been - but Legolas was sure, if he turned to him, there would probably be a dark, watchful gaze in his eyes. His father was innately suspicious of all, and that relentless inquisition could be turned on and off by anybody, no matter how well known to him. Especially when the matter concerned his son, his beloved only child. Legolas knew their relations could be strained sometimes but Thranduil obviously cared deeply for him in what he did. The feelings were mutual, they always had been.

However, recently, Thranduil had grown slightly more distant again. It was not anything like how it had been centuries ago, when Legolas had felt alone in the running of the realm, yet he still was not spending as much time in his company. And when he was around him, he acted slightly strangely, so much so that a barrier of discomfort could often grow between them. Legolas felt it deeply, knew Thranduil must also feel it too, and for some unknown reason, feared it, as if it could break them apart. To talk to Thranduil, though, an infamously and infinitely guarded elf, would be useless. He would have to try and ignore it.

But, even that day, sitting beside Thranduil earlier next to his grand throne, it had festered between them, just out of reach and touch, almost nothing but evidently something unsettling. In more disturbing moments, Legolas had thought it must have be related to the dreams he had, snatches of sin in the depths of the night, and incomprehensible feelings that were deep inside were stirred by it. He pushed them down, without truly knowing the meaning of them but somehow dreading to. It worked, most of the time

Still, it was undeniable that something had changed in their relationship, in both parties. It worried Legolas. He did not know what he would do without the strong, protective force of Thranduil in his life. Of course, he was old enough and far skilled enough now to shield himself from the darkness and their foes, if any were to ever awaken, but to have Thranduil at his side or in his mind comforted him somewhat. He hoped after these festivities were over and the elf got to spend more time with his old friends and companions, he would be more at ease. And they could work through whatever it was that was holding them back.

Suddenly, back in reality, Legolas realised he had drifted off to staring into space. The feel of a warm touch upon his hand made him jump and come crashing into the present again. Elrond was watching him with gentle, grey eyes, softly stroking his skin. The sensation of it made Legolas shiver a little, without knowing what was going on. "Your highness," he beamed. "It seems we both have a habit of drifting into our own thoughts. Just this evening, Lindir had to rescue me from mine."

Legolas blushed at being caught off his guard and laughed. "I apologise, Lord Elrond. I should learn not to do such things. It used to get me into much trouble as an elfling."

Elrond shook his head. "It is fine, your highness. I quite enjoy watching other people's musings. Though I wonder what you were thinking of?"

Legolas waved his hand. "It is nothing," he lied. "I must merely be tired from this unusual event. We do not have many, as you know."

A little shine came into Elrond's eyes. "I hope not too tired," he said. Legolas returned to his former self, chuckling.

"No. I am a wood elf after all. I am never too weary for anything." He let his gaze linger on Elrond for a few moments, returning the Peredhel's silent watching from earlier, and noticed that the gleam in his face did not falter or fade. It intrigued Legolas to see such a pleased look from him, and to know that it was stemming from himself made warmth spread through his stomach. The ancient lord of Imladris was enjoying his presence and talk; the realisation of this honoured Legolas, caused him to squirm like an inexperienced young elf maiden. He wanted to chide himself for such naïve, silly behaviour but the truth was, he felt the same way about Elrond. Long had it been since he had found such delight in simple conversation and companionship. This was exactly what he had hoped for upon seeing him earlier.

But, now, sitting across from him, he noticed there was something else too. Something else he desired. 

To look into Elrond's fair countenance was quite a pleasure in itself. His eyes were dark and enchanting, orbs that shone with the hints of much laying beyond. His face, as pale and tranquil as the moonlight, was beautifully angled and reminiscent of one of the great warriors Legolas had seen illustrated in history books. His hair wound down past his shoulders, decorated with intricate, impressive braids and shimmering in the lamp light. Legolas continued to stare at him, suddenly very moved by his bearing and proximity. He was most appealing. That was indisputable. 

And he made Legolas feel things that surely his father would not have encouraged.

The young prince hastily sensed a craving to be closer to him, to swap his place to the opposite side of the table just so he could feel the other elf's body warmth, so he could be nearer to see those alluring features, so he could accidentally brush their legs and hands together in opportune moments. The yearning to do so came over him quickly and strongly. It was undeniably intoxicating.

Before he could think of what he was doing, he was smiling back at Elrond again, content to see that he had appeared to relish his gaze upon him, and tilting his head in question. The elf willingly observed his movements. "Lord Elrond," he said softly and for a moment, he allowed his eyes to flick across to the dance floor next to them, filled with twirling, joyful elves. He almost found himself blushing a little. "Would you care to dance?"

He didn't know what he expected Elrond's reaction to be; whether he would be shocked or amused or maybe even act awkwardly. However, he simply watched Legolas with a pleasant curving of his lips then reached over to gently trace his fingers, resting upon the table top. With touching delicacy, he lifted them and bent slowly to brush his mouth over the soft skin. Legolas' heart skipped a little as he placed one, two, three affectionate kisses upon it. He looked tenderly up at him.

"Of course, your highness," he replied, full of lovely grace. "I would be honoured to accompany you in the dance." 

Legolas grinned, savouring this blissful treatment. He barely managed to suppress a shiver when Elrond gently entwined their hands together and guided him towards the dance floor. 

To his delight, the Peredhel was not hesitant in how he acted towards him. Although he was always respectful, he was also assured in his manner. When they entered the crowds, politely parting to let them pass, he did not waste any time in pulling Legolas close to him, pressing their bodies together. Legolas tried hard not to gasp. The sensation of such a warm, strong force against him was wonderful. He didn't breathe a word of opposition as Elrond placed his hands on his shoulder blades in a light embrace and began to sway ever so tenderly. Willingly, he followed along. 

It did not take long for them to become even more comfortable with each other. They moved slowly, finding the rhythm of the music, and though Legolas had never danced before, he found it came easy to him, remnants of the traits of the Firstborn created to the sound of songs. As well as this, Elrond was so composed in his actions and he felt entirely safe in his arms. He was not embarrassed or shy of himself at all. Certainly, he was grateful that it was not frowned upon for two ellons or two elleths to dance with one another; the only requirement was that they enjoyed themselves.

And Legolas was surely doing that.

So he relaxed, with his head resting upon Elrond's shoulder, and hands absent-mindedly rubbing the soft velvet of his robe. Every now and then, he felt his breath brush against his neck and it made all the tiny little hairs stand on end. His body suddenly felt extremely perceptive to touch, heated by the presence of an admired one so close to him. Before he knew what was happening, he could feel blood rushing down to his loins. 

He sighed quietly as he sensed the first traces of arousal blossom inside of him. Surreptitiously, he shifted to ensure Elrond did not notice too much, his eyes opening to gage his reaction. But from his place upon his shoulder, he could see no tension in him, nor feel any stiffness. He was as he had been before. 

However, by again looking upon the room, he became aware of something else that he should have been alert about earlier. Almost opposite them, still sitting rigidly on his throne was his father. Even from this distance, Legolas could plainly see with his keen sight that he was clenching onto his regal staff, knuckles white and whole bearing filled with dissatisfaction. His stare pierced right into him and Elrond, watching their every move. Others whispered to him at his side but his gaze never strayed. Even though Elrond was a good friend of his, he obviously still could not keep his frustration from surfacing at what was happening before him.

Legolas quickly closed his eyes and turned his head, pretending as if he had not noticed. He would deal with his father later, if he could at least hold a calm conversation with him.

To his surprise, though, he found that, despite the knowledge that Thranduil was fiercely observing them, his arousal had not diminished at all. Warmth still spread within him at the feel of Elrond's touch and he couldn't help but realise he was slightly dizzy. His breathing stuttered, even more so when the Peredhel's hands drifted downwards to rest leisurely upon his hips. For a moment, he stopped, unsure of the reaction. "May I hold you here?" he murmured lowly. Legolas nodded immediately.

"Yes," he sighed, voice laced with excitement. "Yes."

Elrond smiled against his neck, lips so close to his skin it drove him crazy. He greatly savoured their nearness but now he was starting to crave even more, to wind himself around the other elf and have him caress him in passion. He shivered at the thought. It was no longer possible to hide his arousal from Elrond.

But he did not utter anything of disapproval about it. Instead, he readily pressed their bodies together again so that no distance parted them. Legolas moaned quietly. He wondered what on earth had happened to him. He had never felt anything quite like this before... Yet, gradually, he realised he was not the only one who was affected by this situation they were in. Through his robe, he could feel something vaguely hard rubbing against his thigh, echoing his own obvious fervour. He shuddered, clutching more firmly onto Elrond's back.

"Oh my prince -" Elrond muttered and the sound of those words made Legolas' leggings feel far too tight.

But Elrond did not seem to want to bestow mercy upon him. Still holding him to his chest, he moved his hands so they slipped beneath his tunic, coming to lay upon his backside. Legolas held his breath, letting it out slowly and blissfully when he began to rub, fingers taunting his soft flesh. Unable to stop himself, he leant back encouragingly, shifting and rotating his hips against the contact. Elrond rewarded him with a few satisfying squeezes, kneading the firm cheeks together and stimulating the sensitive entrance within. Legolas bit his bottom lip to stop a cry from spilling out, his erection impossible to ignore against the ties of his leggings. By the Valar, he needed so badly to be touched... 

He tried to restrain himself, breathing ragged and quick against Elrond's hair. His hands turned into fists and his legs trembled beneath him. The combination of Elrond's stimulating touches and the presence of so many people surrounding them - including oh gods, his own father - was incredible. He was ashamed to admit that the thought of Thranduil still staring at them was turning him on even more.

Elrond did not appear to be in a very different position either. He was very aroused at being able to touch the prince like this and Legolas could feel him straining more and more against his leg. Returning the favour, Legolas gently shifted his thigh, applying pressure to the hard ridge. Elrond gasped, his grasp becoming tougher on the younger elf's bottom.

Legolas could not believe that their performance and had truly gone unnoticed. There were simply too many people around for that. But he did not care in the slightest. All his concentration was on where Elrond was fondling him and oh, the thoughts of what might happen later that night... 

He moaned again as those treacherous fingers upon his backside slid into the centre, tracing the obvious cleft through the taut material. "Ah -" he couldn't help whimpering, his leggings becoming damp where his erection pressed against them. Elrond murmured gently to him, touch drifting further down and dipping between his shaking thighs. He followed the seam along the wool as far as he could reach, pleasuring the elf by caressing his most private areas. An enraptured shudder wracked all throughout his body.

"Oh my lord Elrond," he finally muttered desperately. "Oh, maybe we should retire to somewhere more secluded. You are welcome to - to join me in my bedroom."

Elrond let out a contended sigh. Giving Legolas' backside one more stroke he eventually retreated from his tunic, gazing in an alluring mix of softness and ardour at him. His hands were warm where they affectionately grazed his cheek. "I would be very honoured," he smiled. "And very grateful. Is this what you wish?"

Legolas stared up into Elrond's beautiful dark eyes, barely able to contain himself. For a moment, his thoughts fluttered to his father, to the disapproving look that must be adorning his face right then. But he still nodded, not thinking of any answer but yes. "I wish it very much," he said.

The smile on Elrond's face grew. Appreciatively, he again interlaced their fingers and without another look behind them, they left the large chamber in the direction of Legolas' personal quarters. 

~~~

To say that Thranduil was disappointed in Lord Elrond, and to some extent, his own son, was an understatement. For the past few hours, he had been sitting upon his throne at the head of the chamber, surveying the party that he had helped create and was thoroughly pleased with how it was taking place. Everyone who he invited had arrived, the company seemed merry and amicable, despite the differences between some of them, and Galion had done a marvellous job of helping to decorate the grand hall. And, most importantly, Legolas had been having a pleasant time, from what he could ascertain. It was a spectacular affair, reminiscent of the events he had held long, long ago.

During the feast in the early time of the festivities, Legolas had been at his side, the crown prince of the realm. The conversation was thin and scarce but Thranduil had enjoyed the fair light in his son's countenance. He had found his gaze straying to him often, glances that would increase as the night went on. He truly had become very beautiful. The glow of eternal youth shone in his face, gleaming from his lovely blue eyes - his mother's eyes, Thranduil noted - and in his rare, but illustrious smiles. There was no one in all of Arda who could match his son. Aside from his appearance, however, Thranduil greatly admired his fortitude and manner, having battled through much in his life. Although pride welled in him to look upon his only child, Thranduil also ached, at regrets from the past and regrets still eating away at his conscience, dark thoughts always on the horizon. It was how it always was when he met with Legolas these days, unfortunately a slowly dwindling occurrence. 

He had been half-disappointed, half-relieved when Legolas left him after the meal to immerse himself in the crowds of guests wanting to talk with him. He spread and meandered amongst them like a true friend of the people, happy to converse with many. Thranduil tried to distract himself by holding his own discussions but alas, his eyes kept roaming back to observe where that radiant blonde head was in the room. He was always somewhere different, flitting about like a delightful, elegant bird waiting to be caught. Once or twice, Thranduil had to bring him back to the throne to inquire on his comfort and investigate any potentially harmful drink in his hand.

And then there came Glorfindel. Thranduil had been vaguely concerned about him when he had seen his arrival as one of Lord Elrond's companions earlier that day, knowing his infamous nature towards lovely, attractive elves. Legolas fit the description of what he often desired perfectly. He had continually found himself watching the golden-haired warrior throughout the evening, and when he had moved towards his son, his intentions irritatingly obvious, Thranduil had seethed in vexation. If he hadn't have set Elrond up earlier with the mission of shielding Legolas, he would have dealt with Glorfindel himself. The outcome wouldn't have been pleasant, he was sure.

To his abatement, though, Elrond soon stepped into the situation. After some infuriatingly inappropriate actions on Glorfindel's part, ones which almost threatened Thranduil out onto the dance floor, he guided Legolas away from whatever Glorfindel had been planning and sat him down out of the danger zone at his own table. Thranduil thanked the Valar that he had decided to request Elrond to be Legolas' protector when it was not proper for him to intervene. He had seen the confusion and indecision in the Peredhel's eyes upon speaking to him about such a thing but now, surely, he must understand.

For a satisfying time, while he was seated at Elrond's side, Thranduil thought that Legolas was away from the amorous clinches of others. He had been contented with their talk, knowing that Legolas had admired the Lord of Imladris when he had been younger, and appreciated the friend he could find in him. 

But he gradually came to realise that something had changed between them. As the evening stretched on, they started to act more and more comfortably with each other, Elrond's gaze gaining a quality that Glorfindel's had contained. Thranduil did not mind about their mutual ease yet when they moved to the dance floor together, his hands had begun to again curl tightly around the arms of his chair. It all got more and more frustrating from there.

From entrusting Elrond with Legolas' virtue and being assured that he would behave appropriately, Thranduil began to regret his choice. They moved like lovers before him, swaying and touching far too intimately and Thranduil fumed, feeling a deep sense of betrayal; Elrond for stamping upon his reliance, and in some ways, Legolas for parading so shamelessly before him. He craved to break them apart and lecture them both but it would not be becoming for a king to act in such a way in a very public place. Especially not after so much work and expectancy about this party. He felt helpless, forced to watch his friend and his son engage in open duplicity. It was maddening.

But, still, he could not keep his eyes from them. He told himself that it was because he had to watch over Legolas, now Elrond had given up his assigned position, yet over a very short time, he began to become aware of something else brewing inside him. Something that was just as aggravating and disturbing as the notion of their disloyalty. 

They were unnervingly alluring together. Elrond had a dark, ancient grace about him while Legolas' beauty was bright and golden, a perfect contrast. Their looks contradicted one other wonderfully and made each stand out even more than usual. Thranduil had always been aware of Elrond's handsomeness and despite his own father's misgivings in the past, had also found a kind, fascinating soul within him. For many years, they had shared company and beds. But not for a long, long time.

If he was entirely honest, Thranduil could not deny that there had been another, alternative reason for inviting Elrond to the realm. Since the disappearance of his dear wife, Thranduil had been terribly lonely within his isolated kingdom, aside from the presence of his son. Many centuries had passed since her loss and Thranduil's fëa still grieved at this devastation but other troubles, which were doubtlessly related, had arisen over time. They preyed on his damaged mind and would not go away, no matter what he tried to do. And it was addling his conscience even more.

He missed the presence of someone in his arms. He missed having someone to care for in all senses of the word. He missed companionship. He missed intimacy.

It was a delicate matter that he had invariably attempted to atone over the years. He had invited others to his bed, virile, attractive guards from his most trusted circles, and spread his legs for them or spread theirs. It had felt good and certainly his partners enjoyed sharing their nights with the king but it hadn't been enough. It hadn't been anywhere near enough. He still felt empty. He still felt hollow. Tormented with a unquenchable itch.

Deep in his darkest moments, though, he wondered if this itch had anything to do with that part of his life at all. He had tried to fill the voids with hours of passion, whoring himself out to one, two, three at a time, but he still awoke back to the world with an unfathomable lack lying within his gut and his mind. He needed something - something else. And it was tearing him apart that he could not get it.

By the arrival of his former lover, he had hoped that he could put to rest all his inner yearnings once and for all. He had heard of the mournful sailing of Lady Celebrían yet hoped he and Elrond could find mutual solace in one another. But now, he could only watch as he held his beautiful son in his arms and danced with him right before his eyes. He stared as Legolas clenched his hands in the Peredhel's velvet robe and buried his head into his shoulder, shivering ever so obviously. Thranduil hated to imagine what Elrond was doing. Before he could comprehend it, envy that was quite unbecoming a king was shuddering through him. He fidgeted irritably, fists tightening, breath hitching. 

He wanted so desperately to pull them apart but by the Valar, they looked so entrancing. He despised it. And most awfully, it did not take long for Legolas to raise his eyes, as if he just knew what his father would be thinking. In one dreadful moment, they met each other and he stared right at him. A wave of unstoppable warmth unexpectedly rushed through Thranduil's tense body. Legolas' face was flushed, reddened; obviously he was becoming very aroused. His gaze was slightly darkened, blue orbs consumed by the blackness of the centre, and gods...He was beautiful. 

Thranduil was sure that all the blood inside of him immediately flooded to his cheeks, then frighteningly surged downwards. Legolas watched him, desirous, intoxicated, and his hand absent-mindedly clutched around the regal staff at his side, thumb rubbing against the hard material. He could barely concentrate on anything else but the haze in Legolas' eyes, the curve of his rosy lips... In these brief few seconds, which felt like an everlasting eternity, others next to his throne may have whispered to him but he paid them no heed, unable to understand their mundane words. Everything focused upon the golden vision upon the dance floor.

But, finally, the lurid connection broke. Legolas returned his head to Elrond's neck and Thranduil was left staring into space. He realised that he was still breathless, reeling from the effects of what had just occurred. All at once, it started to hit him, realisations dawning, gushing into his understanding now the security of the dam had broken. His son... Oh, Valar, no, his own son... It could not be happening. It could not be true. 

But it all made sense; the tense awkwardness he felt in his close presence, the chasm that had grown within him, the dark storm hanging over his head... The pieces suddenly fit awfully into place. The thoughts he had repressed pushed to the front of his mind, abruptly becoming tangible and appallingly plain to distinguish. Shame and regret seared through him. How could he? How could this be possible? How could this be real? Was this why his wife had been lost to them? Because of his own disgusting sins? Oh Eru - 

Thranduil felt as if an arrow had been fired straight into his chest. He trembled, the whole world narrowing down to these horrible thoughts. How could he have allowed this to happen? How had he not realised? 

A vehement desire to run out of the room gripped him. If the voice of Galion had not shortly sounded in his ear, he was almost certain he would have done. He jumped, wrenched out of his distraught musings, and tried fiercely to regain his composure. Galion was staring at him. "My Lord," he said. "Shall I arrange for the gifts to be brought out for the prince?"

Thranduil tried to think of words to respond with. He couldn't even remember what the gifts were, or if Galion was even talking about ones he had arranged. He floundered, almost babbling aloud. "Ah...Yes, Galion," he finally managed. "Bring them to - to -"

But, as he turned to see if Legolas was still where he had seen him last, he realised that he was gone, disappeared with Lord Elrond out of the room.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not gonna lie, this chapter is basically 11k words of smut and angst...
> 
> Hehe, hope you enjoy it :) Thanks for all the feedback so far!

Walking to Legolas' room felt like it took hours. The prince guided him through corridor after corridor, all lined with amber coloured lamps, every one so similar that Elrond wondered how on Arda Legolas did not get lost. They all looked the same to his untrained eye; dark, winding, empty, growing more and more labyrinthine the deeper they ventured into the fortress. It was so very different to Rivendell, a place of light and fairness, bathed constantly  
in the glow of the sun or the moon. Instead, Mirkwood had a tangible thorny quality to it, one that was reflected in its wild ruler. It unsettled Elrond a little and he was glad to have someone by his side, showing him the way. 

Legolas seemed to be confident in his directions, going left then right then left then right again over and over. Elrond couldn't help noticing how hasty he appeared. Every now and then, he would look behind to check Elrond was still by him. But Elrond could not leave him now, even if he wanted to. He followed without a sound, trusting the beautiful young elf. He was his map through this maze of underground pathways. 

Still, all the long waiting made him feel like the anticipation and tension was growing exponentially in his breast. He glanced around him, as Legolas continuously did to confirm the presence of his companion, and kept his eyes and ears open for any disturbance. Every corner they took seemed as though Thranduil would be lurking around the other side of it. He knew that it was his own conscience playing tricks on him yet Elrond could not keep his mind off the woodland king. That evening he had betrayed not just his royal favour but his friendship too. He had promised to bind himself to his request about Legolas but now he was breaking those bonds more and more. And every step closer to Legolas' private quarters exacerbated that fracture in his loyalty.

As they went along, he supposed he should tell Legolas of what his father had spoken to him of, to at least inform him of what terms had passed between them, before he took him to bed. He did not want to deceive both members of the royal family in one night, and in his heart, he knew being open with Legolas was the right thing to do. However, he found he was frightened of what Legolas might say or do in response. Now he had won the attraction and affection of the lovely elf he did not want to jeopardise it. And Legolas appeared to act in a way that this was what he wanted. His eager, enthusiastic looks over his shoulder at Elrond certainly seemed to prove that. Surely then their coupling would not breach what Thranduil had asked of him. 

However, until they reached Legolas' rooms, his vision frequently lay on the corridors around them, guiltily watching for Thranduil to find them and scold them. It was what he deserved. 

When they finally entered the privacy of Legolas' chambers, Legolas' beatific smile calmed him somewhat. He shut the door behind them and Elrond felt that it closed off at least some of his anxiety. He at last turned fully to Legolas and smiled back. The prince willingly led him further inside. Elrond withdrew a little more from his concerns. 

The space in which he arrived was far more sparse than he had anticipated. After passing through other quite lavish areas that belonged to Legolas' accommodation, his bedroom was contrastingly subtle. There were few decorations on the walls: one ornamental bow and arrow that Elrond recalled belonging to Oropher, and a few paintings illustrating important past events in the history of the elves. Apart from that, their surroundings were in a similar decor to the grand hall with its natural wood finish, albeit a little more understated. The only decadent appearances in the chamber were the bed, a four poster beauty with antlers adorning the headboard and a large window overlooking what Elrond saw was a enchanting underground waterfall. 

Legolas noticed his look as they entered. "It is not much," he said. "I do not entirely share my father's love of finery."

Elrond shook his head. "No, it is wonderful," he assured. "Very homely."

"I take that as compliment from the lord of the Last Homely House." Legolas beamed and Elrond felt another wave of warmth wash over him. Now they were away from the crowds, the prince was even more enticing, for his eyes only. He glowed in the soft light of the room and radiated an allure that Elrond wanted to capture and ravish. It disturbed him somewhat that he had lost such control over his thoughts, which, in the presence of the young elf, were turning more and more lusty: something he had not felt for centuries. He had a burgeoning desire to pull him into his arms and kiss him until his mouth was sore.

Before he could go through with it though, Legolas turned and walked a few paces away from him. For a moment, he thought might have translated his needs into his eyes and frightened him with a lecherous leer but Legolas was still smiling when he stopped by another door at the side of the room. His face was still flushed and gaze darkened so Elrond could not doubt the longing he felt too. It was relieving to know the sensation was mutual.

"I will not be a moment," he said politely, fingers resting on the brass handle to the other room. "Make yourself at home."

Elrond nodded and watched Legolas pass into the adjoining space, leaving a teasing gap in the door. He was happy to let him dictate the events of the coming night, not wanting to push him into anything. This was both for the sake of honouring at least some of the agreement he'd made with Thranduil but also for Legolas' own wellbeing. Judging by how he and Thranduil had acted, this was obviously the prince's first time - something which was almost unbelievable considering the advances he must have experienced - and he did not want to force him in any way, no matter how potent his own cravings. 

Long had it been since Elrond had made love to another. For nigh on two millennia, Celebrían had been his sole companion, a magnificent, loving elleth who was not frightened to speak her mind. After the bloody, terrible disasters of the Second Age, she had been a welcome appeasement of his troubles for a long while, or at least a sturdy partner to weather any coming ones. Even to the last, she had been defiant, one of the most courageous elves Elrond had had the pleasure of knowing. Just before she had sailed, she had made him promise to find happiness again, for the sake of himself and their children. Elrond had doubted that after such despair had fallen to him, he would be able to reconcile that but she had forced him to vow that he would try. For many, many years, he had failed in that oath.

But now, standing within the peaceful confines of Legolas' room, he was plainly aware of something stirring within him, that had first appeared back at the party, or maybe before as he stepped into the woodland realm. The prince was obviously inexperienced in the world outside of his home; his father had done his utmost best to secure his protection within it. For some time, Elrond had felt guilty about betraying that shelter during the evening, breaking his word to him. But Legolas had seemed truly mirthful to be doing as he wanted - of course, he only had his rare visits to Imladris to judge what Legolas' happiness was like, yet to come away from the crowds had been the prince's own idea. He was only following what Legolas had asked of him. Although he was very willing to do so anyway.

And the thought of that brought some serenity to Elrond's mind. He had become very attached to Legolas over the course of that night, something which had began (albeit in a different manner) all those years ago during their times together in Rivendell. He desired greatly to aid the lovely prince and bring him joy. In turn, that would bring him much bliss, to know he had given Legolas what he wanted for himself, not what his father wanted. He may not have been able to rescue Celebrían in finding her way in life on Middle Earth again, but he hoped he could help Legolas on his own journey forward. If their encounter made the prince glad, he would feel his oath fulfilled, although in a way he could not have foretold. 

As he stood alone in Legolas' room, Elrond smiled. Others may have looked strangely upon his decisions but he was sure that this was what would aid him as well as Legolas, and Celebrían, his infinite love, would have been satisfied with it. Their bond, the truest Elrond had ever felt, was eternal and could not be broken. And, after all, before she had departed, she had held Elrond rigidly to his promise, no matter how it was achieved. She may have even found some humour in this unconventional situation, knowing how she had been. 

Beyond the door, Elrond could hear Legolas rustling around, preparing himself for what lay ahead. His stomach tightened a little as he recognised the distinctive sound of clothing slipping over skin. The thought of viewing the fair elf bare made him want to tremble. He was obviously very cherished and admired by many and Elrond felt truly honoured that he had permitted him with this night. When it had come to it, the son's trust had outweighed the father's. He hoped he could find a way to connect both of their desires and give them what they wished. But surely, if Legolas was content, then Thranduil would be also.

As he continued to ponder, Elrond found himself veering closer and closer to the separate room. There was still that entrancing gap peeking through into it, an opportunity so tantalising that even the wise lord of Imladris could not resist. He swore Legolas had done it on purpose.

Before he could stop himself, he was glancing through the opening, gaining a quick, clandestine view into where Legolas had gone. The sight which greeted him almost took his breath away and he found he had to muster up all his remaining restraint not to gasp and alert the prince. 

The elf was almost entirely nude, his tunic and undershirt piled on the floor and tight leggings clinging to his body. He was facing away from Elrond yet undeniably, he was incredibly beautiful from any angle. And when he began to tug down his waistband, revealing a firm, round backside, oh -! Elrond had to suddenly turn away, the urge to ravish Legolas overcoming him once again. He was becoming very ashamed of his own unbidden pining. 

But no matter what he tried to do to quell it, or at least gain some force over it, it kept insistently returning at the notions of what he would do to the prince in the very bed he was standing by... Of how he would look spread out and flushed at his caresses... Of what he would sound like in the throes of his ecstasy... 

Elrond blushed deeply, feeling trapped under the spell of the younger elf. He now thoroughly understood the power Legolas had over others around him. He wondered if Legolas knew it, himself.

 

But, soon, his runaway fantasies of ardour were interrupted by a voice behind him. Lost in his own world, he had not noticed the sound of the door opening and Legolas returning to the room. Yet there he was once more and Elrond's heart again pounded as he took in what lay before his eyes. 

From his abandoned tunic and leggings, he had changed into nothing more than a flowing, light robe, almost sheer in some places and hanging off his white lithe form below. To his knowledge, Legolas was completely naked underneath and certainly, as he moved, the light would catch him in a way as to offer teasing glimpses of his barely hidden body. Elrond's words caught in his throat.

Legolas smiled as he came towards him, hips swaying beguilingly. "Lord Elrond," he breathed gently. "I thought that you might want to undress me yourself."

Elrond gaped, then thought how ridiculous he must look and tried to find something to say. "I-" he began. "I - yes. I would be happy to, if this is - what you wish."

"Yes," Legolas said. "It is."

Sweetly, he drew nearer to Elrond and stopped a few paces before him, letting his hands drop to his side, out of the way. Elrond shivered in anticipation, reaching to touch the tie on Legolas' robe. Legolas watched him eagerly as he tugged on it, gradually, adoringly, savouring every moment. It unravelled from the bow it was in, like the unwrapping of a dear present, excitingly coming apart. Elrond held his breath as it loosened, allowing each half of the fabric to drop further and further off until it fell away, then slipped to the floor. The rest of the material followed. He exhaled long, slow, in utter admiration...

Legolas stood before him, shuffling a little in coyness at his nudity, but in Elrond's eyes, with no reason to be. He was amazing, starlit grace and eternal delight. Long elegant limbs just like his father, a strong frame with the hint of a warrior's muscles and smooth, supple-looking skin that the Peredhel couldn't wait to run his hands over. By the Valar, he matched even the most exquisite of their kind.

Legolas blushed as he ran his gaze over him approvingly, only adding to his charm. "It is not much," he uttered quietly. But Elrond shook his head, chuckling at the modesty he displayed. 

"You are wonderful -" he replied reverently. "So wonderful."

Tenderly, he stretched out and when Legolas did not flinch or pull back, he slid an eager hand up his side, feeling it flutter delicately beneath him. He traced the gentle curve, the hint of his ribs under skin that was devastatingly soft, until he touched the swell of his arm. Legolas shivered as he diverted his pathway and caressed his palm over the sensitive skin of his neck, holding it gently. From here, his fingers sank into his hair, rubbing at his nape with just enough force to make him tremble again. Elrond saw how his lips parted unconsciously, a silent invitation.

He stared unstoppably at that enticing mouth, red as autumn leaves and glistening with dewdrops. A wave of passion overcame him, a boundless need, and suddenly, in one smooth motion, he was pulling the nude prince close to him, enclosing him in his embrace. Both moaned when their bodies pressed together, the warm bareness of the younger elf and the sensation of smooth cloth against flushed skin. Driven blissfully mad by Legolas all night, Elrond could not hold back from kissing him any longer.

It felt incredible. Not for many years had Elrond felt so much all-consuming fervour. Groaning in satisfaction, he ravished Legolas, exploring the hot cavern of his mouth and running his hands all over his agile body. Legolas whimpered, shuddering against him and bucking as Elrond again grasped his bottom, this time with no clothing separating their skin. The soft, muffled sounds he made, the tightening of his grip on his arms, told Elrond all he needed to know. Oh, this was so incredible - 

Every swipe of his tongue between Legolas' lips drew him further and further into a frenzy. He moulded his torso against Elrond's and the Peredhel felt his thighs shifting, itching to wrap around him. He thought of what that would be like, to have Legolas clinging so tightly to him, in such a lascivious, decadent position, but no - No, they must continue this on the bed. Legolas must be comfortable, first and foremost.

Affectionately, he eased him to the side, his intent obvious, and Legolas pliantly followed along. Finding their way, they soon bumped against the mattress, still kissing deeply. Elrond could have continued this pleasing act for days but lack of air finally broke them apart. As soon as they were ready again, Elrond leaned back to taste the prince once more. But he was met with a sudden hesitant look of confusion. He paused. 

"Legolas? Are you alright? Did I do something wrong?"

Legolas immediately shook his head. "No. Oh, no," he said quickly. "No, it is... My - my father. He would not be happy with me."

Elrond exhaled. Once again, the notion of telling Legolas about what had occurred between him and Thranduil arose. It would be the correct course to inform him. But he couldn't face letting him go. Not now. "My dear Legolas," he replied. "Surely if you are happy, he is happy."

The frown still did not leave Legolas' face. "I would like to believe that. But he - he still thinks I am not ready for this. That I am not at the right stage in my life to engage in such intimate affairs. He sees me as - oh, you cannot understand. It is so fragile -"

Elrond stopped again and looked hard upon Legolas' pained expression. He saw a young elf wanting so terribly to please his father, for him to be proud of him, but also craving to forge his own way and make decisions by his personal contemplation. Elrond longed to aid him. And if Legolas was to conceive his own choices, it did not seem fair to withhold what Thranduil had made him promise. He must know - 

He sighed. "Oh Legolas, I do understand." The prince looked at him questioningly. "When I came into the realm earlier this day, your father took me aside and asked me to do something for him. I did not fully grasp what he was saying at the time but when I saw you at the party, I knew. He had requested me to look after you, to make sure you were not taken advantage of, and while watching you, I realised why. You are one of the most charming souls I have ever encountered. I believe he thinks of you highly but he imposes such rules to protect you. He thinks none are good enough for his son."

Legolas watched him intently as he spoke, the darkness of desire still in his eyes. Elrond was relieved to see him gradually start to smile, even as he spoke of sensitive matters between him and his father. When he had finished, he raised an elegant eyebrow. "And are you good enough, Lord Elrond?" he asked determinedly. "You have vowed to shield me from others only to ravage me yourself. This does not seem like honourable behaviour."

Elrond glanced downwards, still ashamed of what he had done. How could he have expected Legolas to accept this situation, especially with its ties to such deep issues with Thranduil. He nodded respectfully. "You are right, Legolas.  
I am guilty in what I have done, in how I have treated you -"

"No." Legolas abruptly interrupted, making Elrond raise his head. "No, do not feel guilt or shame. I -" He stumbled a little, a blush returning to his cheeks. "You have treated me well this evening, Lord Elrond. Exceedingly well. I cannot deny how much I want this, how much I - I need it. Let me bear the burden of my father and his fancies. I will find a way to face him. You have been honest with me, have allowed me to choose for myself. And right now, I choose to be bedded. I choose to be made love to."

Elrond nigh on shivered at these words. Hearing the sullen tone of Legolas' voice revert back to one hitched with lust, he allowed a smile to touch his lips. He inclined his head in acquiescence and once again, drew the prince into a secure hold. Legolas peered up at him through lowered, dark lashes, biting his lower lip a little. "Your choice will be thoroughly honoured, your highness," he whispered. 

~~~

All the breath felt like it rushed out of Legolas as he and Elrond fell back upon the bed, entwining themselves together. He grasped onto him, spreading his legs to accommodate his welcome weight, and could do nothing but kiss and touch him, a delirious display of their hunger for each other. He had become a slave to this merciless thirst, throbbing with the lusty blood running through his veins and alert to every part of his body that was being held. His whole being was pulsing, hypersensitive in every bare space. It was glorious.

Lord Elrond, undeniably experienced in these matters, knew exactly how to treat him. The whole evening Legolas felt like he had been acting with his best interests in mind and he could not possibly deny him, even now he knew about what his father had asked of him. His heart still ached at his disobedience but it was repeatedly drowned out by the roaring of his ecstasy. He tried to block it entirely, ignore the phantasmic images of his father's disapproval. He would find some way to remedy this.

Now, he just needed to be ravished on these very sheets. One thousand years of nightly solitude, confined in the royal fortress, not even a fleeting brush of another across his skin. He was intoxicated, unable to stop, only wanting more and more. He trusted Elrond, yearned to use his caresses and vigour to satiate himself. He could not think any further into the future, not now, not now...

After some time, Elrond broke the kiss and rained nips and sucks down his neck. He tilted back his head, uttering a pleased sound, before shyly putting a hand over his mouth. The Peredhel chuckled against him, raising his gaze momentarily and encouragingly pulling on his wrist. "Do not be afraid," he murmured. "I like to hear your voice. It is quite appealing."

Legolas blushed. Much to his satisfaction, Elrond soon continued, dipping down to mouth at the hollow of his throat. He tentatively touched his hair, guiding him to where he wanted his attention. Elrond willingly followed. He sighed, arching his hips a little and rubbing his unclothed skin against his partner's velvet robe. The contrast felt so good, so much that he almost regretted it when Elrond pulled away for a moment and started to undress. He groaned for a moment in the loss of contact but then began to help him, easing and tugging off the layers of material. They came off quickly, scattering aimlessly about the bed, and Legolas' barely had time to admire the elder's bare, strong form before he was sitting up and pulling him in for another kiss. 

Both groaned at the feeling of freedom between them, nothing but skin glancing across skin. It was so decadent to feel and share such nudity, making Legolas' chest heave in the breath he tried to regain. Elrond's hands forged a burning path down his abdomen, fuelling his fever even more, and ended on his hips, rubbing them, squeezing them, manipulating them against his own. The prince's thighs clenched as their motions met in a perfect rhythm, groins now shifted to press together. His fingers clenched on his shoulders. By the Valar, he'd been wanting to be touched there all evening and now, the contact was finally made, it was too much... He didn't know how to control himself, how to retain any of the little composure he had left. 

Sweat had broken out upon both of them, causing their movements to become even slicker and smoother. Legolas buried his head into Elrond's neck, hiding his moans, and trembled. The Peredhel held him close and doubled the friction between them, moulding himself even nearer to him. Legolas whimpered, the sensations already almost overcoming his inexperienced body. Panting, he at last managed to gasp out two words, just loud enough for Elrond to hear. "Stop..." he hissed. "Please -"

At this plead, Elrond immediately stilled. Legolas sagged gratefully and raised his swimming head to peer at him. "Did I hurt you, ernilen?" he asked gently, touchingly concerned. "I am sorry if -"

"No." Legolas once again interrupted his troubles. "No, it is - it was too much. I do not want to end like this -"

Elrond smiled and nodded. Slowly pulled back from oblivion, Legolas caught his breath and turned his concentration to his companion's needs. He brushed a hand down his chest and curiously lowered his eyes to look upon what lay below. Heat immediately rushed to his cheeks. The lord of Imladris certainly was well-endowed. Legolas thought it must be something to do with the mannish blood in his veins. To imagine that within him made him shudder slightly and utter a quiet "oh -". 

Elrond laughed softly but the sound was cut off when Legolas reached out and took the heavy arousal in his hand, holding it against his palm. The prince watched as he stroked it, ears twitching to feel how it pulsed against him. It was odd to touch without the sensations of pleasure rippling through himself in response, but to know instead that another was feeling the delight. In a way, it was an unsatisfying notion but was swiftly overpowered by the stimulating noises of Elrond's sighs. He looked up as he fondled him to see the tension in his face; the furrow of his brow, the stiffness of his jaw. Such a sight thrilled Legolas deeply. 

Moving his thumb up and down the sensitive underside, he leant in and placed a kiss upon Elrond's neck. His partner hummed and with a slightly trembling hand, grazed Legolas' cheek. "Ah, Legolas," he gasped. "You do not have to do this. Bringing you joy will bring me joy also. I want to satisfy you first."

Legolas shivered. Part of him wanted to continue to please Elrond but another craved to be spoiled for this one night, to be treated to absolute bliss. He needed it - to escape the confines of the realm for a short time, to forget about his father, his possessive, controlling, firm, wonderful, beautiful father... Legolas' body thrummed and tightened to think of him. No. He could not let him in. Not now.

Elrond noticed his hesitation, the ceasing of his kisses against his flesh. He brought him back to reality, muttering again to him, urging him to reply. "Lirimaer," he said. "I want to help you, to make you happy. I promised I would thoroughly honour your choice. Tell me now if this is what you want. I shall do whatever."

Legolas paused. Slyly, he glanced back down at the erection lying in his hand, the fantasies of what it would be like to be upon it heating his body up. He shifted and was asking for it again before he even had time to feel embarrassed. "I want you inside of me," he replied. "I want you to take me." 

Elrond smiled encouragingly. "Yes," he breathed. "Yes."

Leaning in, he placed another kiss upon Legolas' lips, as if sealing the deal. Legolas started to drift back onto the sheets again, thinking that would be how he wanted him, but Elrond stopped his movements, directing him to sit up. "I will make this as comfortable for you as possible," he said gently. "Here."

The older elf changed his position to sit up at the top of the bed, piling pillows against the decorated headboard so his back would not be hurt. Once settled, he beckoned Legolas towards him, having him sit upon his lap, facing away. From there, he could wrap his arms about him, making sure he was content. "Good?" he asked. Legolas sighed, resting against Elrond's front. He could feel his hardness pressing against the top of his bottom, pounding a little. He made sure to brush against it as he leant his head back upon his shoulder. 

"Oh, this is so good -" he said. Elrond smiled approvingly against his neck. Pulling him close, he ran a hand down his chest, wasting no time in continuing his amorous ministrations. Legolas gasped as he touched his arousal, giving him a few satisfyingly hard strokes. He spread his legs without thinking, widening them so his thighs tautened strongly. Elrond made an impressed sound.

"You are very flexible, Legolas," he hummed delightedly. "This position suits you."

Legolas flushed, even more so when he opened his eyes for a moment and saw that they were sat in such a way to be right in the centre of the mirror opposite them. He was half turned on, half embarrassed by the sight that greeted him, his stance open and decadent, Elrond's fist pleasuring him lewdly. It looked so utterly depraved. He found he was whining slightly. 

Elrond peered at them in the glass, lips curling upwards. He moved his hand from Legolas' cock and rested it upon his hips, fingers already a little damp. "My dearest prince," he said. "I will strive to give you everything you want. Please, I want to make this amazing for you. I need to prepare you but it has to be to your liking. Tell me - what is it that you enjoy? Where do you like to be touched?"

Legolas was going to say that Elrond had been doing a lovely job so far with his intimacy but words were once again beginning to fail him. He reddened at the deeply personal question but now was not the time to be coy, not in this situation, not in this posture. "I do not know," he finally uttered. "I have never had such company before."

"Yes, I thought this," Elrond soothed. "But I meant more - what do these hands and these fingers do when you are alone? Where do they stray?"

Legolas bit his lip as the Peredhel lifted his hand and began to kiss the palm and slender appendages. Breath catching, he began to guide him downwards, making him touch his aching erection again. Elrond obeyed. "And -" he muttered lowly. "My ears. I like my ears...fondled."

Elrond chuckled quietly. "Yes, many elves also enjoy this. You are not alone in that. Sometimes, when a person is aroused, they can be just as sensitive as - other erogenous areas." 

Legolas hummed in agreement then let out a long, carnal moan as Elrond's lips found the tip of his ear and engulfed it. Diligently, he ran his tongue around the point before dipping to lick around the shell, while his free hand found the opposite ear, rubbing it with his thumb. Legolas bucked in response, mouth dropping open and eyes squeezing shut. He had no idea that he was that responsive in those places. "Oh Valar -" he panted.

"Hmm, you really do enjoy your ears felt," Elrond murmured, pulling his mouth away for a second. Legolas shivered at the cold air caressing across his damp skin.

"Please don't stop," he pleaded. "It's so very good -"

The elder elf did as he was asked, though now slid one hand down from his neck to meet his other. He gave Legolas' cock a few more especially firm tugs, making him throw back his head and allow Elrond room to ravish his throat, then dipped treacherous fingers lower into his lap. Legolas was oblivious until they started to circle his entrance, seeking access. His eyes flew open. 

"Elrond -" he said with a subtle tremble in his voice as he at last realised the full extent of what would happen. No one else had ever touched him there - only once or twice had he allowed his own fingers to penetrate himself and that was just to feel the clenching of his channel as he climaxed. 

"Ssh, it is alright, I will not hurt you," Elrond reassured him. "I will make this feel good. Have you any oil to ease my way?"

Legolas' heart was thumping as he tried to think about what he had in his drawers and cabinets about the room. Gradually, it came to him - somewhere he had a vial of liquid that was used to soothe aches after combat practise or battle. "Yes," he said. "It is over there."

He waved his hand in the direction of a side table and Elrond immediately moved over to it, searching within. He soon returned with the bottle in his grasp. Slightly nervous but still vehement with need, Legolas sat back upon his lap, letting his legs be parted and stroked gently. Elrond resumed his previous actions, kissing his ear, rubbing his arousal, and now slicking up his fingers. Legolas stared when they returned to his groin, travelling lower and lower until they again reached his entrance. His first instinct was to squirm away when they teased the small rim but he made himself breathe slowly and bear it. 

It was extremely odd to have someone else enter him. Elrond quickly got past the place he had ventured to and slid up and up further inside. A dull sense of pain spread through him but it was overcome by the strangeness of being filled like this. He groaned quietly, shifting his weight until it felt a little more comfortable. To his surprise, he discovered that watching himself and Elrond in the mirror helped somewhat, seeing his finger disappear in his tight body up to the knuckle. He gradually became accustomed to it, easing back into Elrond's embrace. 

"Shall I try another?" the Peredhel asked. Legolas found that he nodded eagerly. 

Attentively, Elrond separated Legolas' thighs further and breached him again with a second digit. This time, Legolas gasped, a peculiar twang of pleasure rippling through him. It encouraged Elrond to sink even deeper, extending into his most private area. Tenderly, he began to scissor his fingers, stretching the prince's passage. Legolas curled his toes into the bed sheets. He could not believe he was enjoying this. 

As Elrond continued to prepare him, his head dropped back onto his shoulder again, keeping one eye upon the mirror. The Peredhel's touches were much smoother now, his entrance willingly opening up for him. He heard himself moaning softly, circling his hips to stir Elrond's fingers within. 

Without warning, his position suddenly changed and pressed against something deep inside. Legolas' back arched immediately, a cry echoing from his throat. When Elrond did it again, a wave of ecstasy crashed down upon him. "Oh Valar, Elrond, what was that?" he rasped.

"Have you never felt that before?" his companion asked. Legolas shook his head. "Well, you are in for a delight. That spot will make you feel incredible tonight."

Yes, it did, Legolas was going to say, but then Elrond did it again and he was rendered mute. Abruptly, he had become aware of all the other touches that were being bestowed upon him; the mouth on his ear, the hand on his cock, the hard body at his back. He writhed in euphoria. "Oh gods -" he finally managed to say. "Oh please, Elrond, keep going - another finger, another, please -" 

Elrond relented easily, penetrating him again. Legolas sighed, unable to avoid thinking of what else would be thrusting into him soon. Now, though, the idea of it made him quiver in anticipation, groaning. Elrond readied him for it a while longer then carefully withdrew, stilling all of his movements. One small kiss was placed upon Legolas' cheek. "Do you still want this?" he asked, excitement underlying his tone. Legolas nodded. 

"Yes," he said. "I need it."

Elrond brushed his lips again across his skin then reached once more for the oil. Legolas leant back happily, giving himself over to the Peredhel. Even now, he couldn't help thinking of what his father would say to find him like this, legs spread and about to be fucked into oblivion. He found he was shuddering at the notion. 

He tried to pretend it was from horror. 

Behind him, he felt Elrond stroke the liquid all over his erection then pour it down into the cleft of his backside, making him sigh loudly. He tensed in anticipation but soon Elrond was caressing his side and kissing his neck again, soothing him. He calmed himself yet couldn't stop from panting as the elder elf grasped his hips and began to guide him backwards over his waiting cock. Clutching onto to Elrond's knees, Legolas allowed his body to be nudged slowly by the impressive member, pleading for access. No matter how composed he seemed on the outside, Legolas knew that the Peredhel was showing an admirable amount of self-control not to merely thrust straight up into him.

The prince rewarded him by letting him pull his backside a little lower, cheeks spread in a display of vulnerability and trust, and he soon sensed the head of Elrond's arousal press into him. He gasped. Then, intoxicated by the feeling, he sank further down on a long, shivering exhale. Elrond let out a strained cry against his shoulder. To be filled like this was undeniably odd but gradually, through the ache, Legolas was becoming accustomed to it, opening himself for his companion. 

The next time Elrond aided him down, though his eyes still watered, he bit hard into his bottom lip, feeling his thighs clench. Elrond squeezed his hips supportively. He went lower, lower, lower and finally, found he was impaled fully upon the other elf. He squirmed, breath coming quickly, as he forced himself to get used to the sensation. It happened swifter than he had feared. 

There was no ignoring how much Elrond was restraining his movements now, hands gripping firmly upon Legolas' sides. Legolas flushed at his care but also at how much he was obviously wanted. To think he was causing Elrond's passion was quite exciting.

With a sigh, he opened his eyes and stole a lewd glance into the mirror. He almost moaned aloud at the sight. His legs were spread as wide as they could possibly be, an exposed V shape that led up to a reddened, hard erection and - oh Valar - Elrond's cock deeply penetrating him. It looked so decadent, so forbidden, so alluring... He couldn't tear his gaze away. 

Panting, he dropped his head back upon Elrond's shoulder and brushed his lips over the rim of his ear. "Please - move," he begged. Elrond nodded willingly. 

The first thrust into him made Legolas cry in a strangled tone, whole body tensing. He furrowed his brow and reached to grab onto the sheets, feeling so incredibly full. Elrond echoed his groan. "Gods, Legolas, you are so tight," he murmured. "It's so good... Are you sure I'm not hurting you?" 

Legolas shook his head defiantly. "No. Please - do not stop."

"As you wish." Elrond smiled against him and gave another firm squeeze to Legolas' waist. "Here -" he continued. "I will let you set the pace. Do as you will, I do not mind." 

Legolas nodded, sweat already breaking out upon his forehead, and raised his gaze to look into the mirror again. Judging by the lurid image that greeted him, he slowly raised his hips so half of Elrond's erection became visible then went down again, watching it disappear. He moaned in delight at the feeling. Elrond helped him repeat it, feet braced against the bed covers and hands now clenching onto his legs. His cock gave an approving twitch to feel his channel so intimately stroked.

Encouraged, he quickly began to get faster, hips arching into the air before descending back onto the source of his pleasure. His mouth dropped open, a high shout escaping his throat. Elrond shuddered. "Oh Valar, Legolas," he hissed. "You look so good like this. You feel extraordinary." 

Legolas whimpered in response, concentrating on raising himself higher and higher. Soon, he found he was able to smoothly push up and down, skilfully and satisfyingly riding Elrond and making both of them exclaim their pleasure into the cavernous room. The wet slap of their flesh urged Legolas on and coupled with their reflection in the mirror, it drove him crazy with need. 

But, even as they fell deeper and deeper into ecstasy, Legolas could not keep his thoughts from straying. At first, he tried to ignore the intrusions into his mind. He concentrated on his motions, the burning lust in his spine, the balance he kept as he bounced wantonly in Elrond's lap. Yet errant images kept appearing, breaking down his barriers. Visions of his father - oh Eru, his own father - repeatedly assaulted him, the thought of his disappointment, the idea of what he would do to him if he found out what had happened. Horrified and suddenly instilled with panic alongside his delight, Legolas squeezed shut his eyes to block him out but it only made it worse. He couldn't stop picturing the dark looks he would give him, the icy blue seas in his eyes, the firm set of his jaw, the way his lips would form harsh words... 

Before he knew what was happening, Legolas heard a moan vibrate out of himself. He almost stopped completely at this reaction but Elrond would not let him, still striking into his quivering entrance. What was happening to him? Why had his whole body suddenly tightened at these troubling ideas? Why could he not cease trembling with euphoria?

His legs continued to move him up and down, up and down, yet his conscience wouldn't be torn away from his father. He found he was conjuring his appearance before him, the strong physique, the beautiful fair hair, the light touches of his elegant fingers... Legolas sank back, working his hips even faster and causing Elrond to grunt harshly at his ear. He couldn't stop, not now; neither his imaginings or his pulsing body would allow him. And his father - oh Valar, his father... Why couldn't he break himself from these fantasies?

With chills setting in, he realised that was exactly what these were. Fantasies. He was fantasising about his own father while he was being thoroughly fucked by his friend...

Legolas shuddered, sobbing aloud. He turned his face into Elrond's neck, hiding his shame, desperately breathing in his scent, so unlike his own, yet it did not shut out his deviations. He could almost hear his voice, imagine how he would lecture him, grab his shoulders with his sturdy hands, tell him he did not belong to that Lord of Imladris. I belong to you, ada, oh ada, I belong to you, he would gasp. I am yours, all yours...

He whimpered in disgust at himself, but could not contain the rippling bliss seeping through him. Suddenly, it all made sense: all the years he had spent feeling detached from his father, the dark storm lying just outside of his understanding, the dreams he had had late at night, waking to the fierce rapture of unspeakable arousal. He loved him, oh Valar, he loved him too much...

He trembled all over, driving himself harder again and again upon Elrond as if the ferocity of his pace would drove out the images. The other elf, oblivious to his plight, carried on in absolute passion, inflaming all of Legolas' dark desires. Delirious, the prince met him thrust for thrust, unable to cease sensing Thranduil's hands pressing upon his shoulders, keeping him in place while he scolded him. He writhed and at the next push downwards, Elrond brushed against that wonderful spot deep inside of him, making his whole body jerk and shake. A muffled scream escaped him and without hesitation, his forbidden imaginings became even more indecent. Thranduil's fingers dropped down his front, slid beneath the ties in his leggings, touched him, hard, wet and excited...

Legolas whined, pressing his face tighter into Elrond's neck. One hand shot from the sheets and began to stroke his arousal, working himself up into a terrible frenzy. "Ada -" he found he was whimpering, before biting his lip and hoping against everything that Elrond hadn't heard.

"Oh yes, lirimaer," Elrond muttered though, too caught up in the heated sensations. "That's it, that's it -" 

Tears spilled from Legolas' eyes from the all-consuming euphoria and the acute guilt. He couldn't stop himself; he was going to come and the only thing on his mind would be Thranduil, his beautiful, incredible, protective, loving father who he didn't think he could ever face again... 

Legolas pounded in his fist, toes curling, entire being tight with the beginnings of an orgasm. He raised his head in one last attempt to distract himself, to stare into the mirror before them and see the singularity of their lovemaking, but oh Valar, it was no use... His breath came out in panicked sips of air, voice getting louder and louder, rhythm stuttering over and over again until all he could feel was the pulsing of his very centre...

And, just as he reached the crests of fervour, clenching, arching, wailing, realising Elrond was flooding him with his release, he turned and saw, standing at the door, flushed, wide-eyed, staring -

"Ada!!" 

With a long, drawn out cry of humiliation, shock, intense stimulation, Legolas shattered, soaking his stomach and the sheets below with evidence of his depravity, unable to look away from the heat of Thranduil's eyes. He sobbed and shook, blood rushing in his ears and the world blurring around him but for the vivid storm of Thranduil's gaze, a tangled web of emotion splayed over his face. It was the most erotic thing Legolas had ever experienced, and he couldn't see, couldn't think of anything else... His whole life suddenly narrowed down to this one moment. It felt like it went on forever. 

But, finally, after far too long, he began to feel the waves of delight ebb away from him again. His tautness gradually lessened, muscles relaxing and room clearing. He prepared himself for the inevitable contempt that would crash over him, the abhorrence at his actions and thoughts. Yet it never came. He sat there, panting, head down, still swaying with the after effects of his peak, and to his utmost surprise, nothing felt wrong at all. It seemed as though this was what had been lacking from his days and nights; it felt fulfilling, perfect, so right...

He raised his eyes, everything seeming different about him now. In these brief few seconds since their stares had been locked, Thranduil was still standing exactly where he had been before, trembling. Legolas watched him, pining and aching as he began to desperately move away, bearing not as elegant as usual. Before he knew what he was doing, he was calling for him, slipping from Elrond's lap and going to dash after him if he needed to. But Thranduil stopped immediately at the sound of his voice, body freezing. His hands clenched at his sides, visage tilted away, refusing to meet Legolas. The prince could plainly see how affected he had been by the events in the bedroom in front of him, and how reviled he was at these reactions. It made him shiver.

"Ada," he called gently. "Do not leave. Please -" 

Thranduil opened his mouth, appearing to be about to respond, but nothing came out. He raised a hand to his forehead, pressing it firmly, then held it to his mouth in shame. Legolas wanted to go to him, to whisper that it was alright, yet Elrond stopped him, touching his arm. One glance at him showed that in his true wise fashion, he understood all that was happening, countenance soft with realisation and acceptance. "Thranduil," he said. "Your son asks for you. Will you not come to him?" 

Legolas feared he would ignore the words once again but at last, he slowly acknowledged him, removing himself from the distance of the corridor. His expression was brimming with anticipation, morose, regretful, confused... Yet Legolas reached out for him, beckoning him to keep walking, to move closer.

It took some time, a long, uneasy age, but finally, he almost reached the bed, standing dolefully before it. Legolas peered pleadingly up at him, holding out welcoming hands. Thranduil's brow creased. "Legolas -" he said. "Do not -"

"No, ada, it is alright." He began to kneel upwards, coming face to face with Thranduil. Their eyes met, one pair full of unashamed love, one pair full of anguish. "I feel it too -" 

A flash of hope glanced through Thranduil's gaze before dying again. "No, you cannot understand, Legolas -" 

Legolas interrupted him, coming to cup his reddened face with his warm hands. "I do, ada," he said, still somewhat surprised at the calmness of his voice. "I do. And I love you -"

Thranduil shook his head, trying to lean away when Legolas began to close the distance between them. A quiet murmur escaped him. "Please, Legolas, do not tempt me..." he begged.

Yet Legolas ignored him and touched their lips together, a mere fleeting caress but one that had them both shivering. Legolas watched his father as they broke apart for a moment, saw the ruefulness followed by the yearning in his gaze, the latter quickly outweighing the former. He barely had time to utter anything before he pulled him in for another kiss, this time full of passion and long hidden yearning. Legolas moaned, heat spreading inside of his stomach and body quivering. He couldn't help from clutching onto him as their mouths slipped and slid along each other's, an immoral but enchanting dance. He suddenly wanted nothing else in the world but to display his undying love to the elf before him. This was why he had felt so empty over the years, this was what had been just out of grasp, what he had secretly craved for...

He never wanted to let him go but lack of air finally stopped them. Both of them leant against one another, panting, almost overcome by the feelings. Legolas ran his fingers down Thranduil's sides, finding his hands and encouraging him to touch him, to bestow his touches upon his bare skin. Again the king hesitated, obviously pining for it but unable to do so. "Ada, it is alright," Legolas repeated gently. But Thranduil sighed mournfully, his glance flicking briefly over to Elrond, who was still sitting patiently upon the bed beside them. Legolas followed him. Even in his excitement, he had not forgotten the other elf; the one who had made him realise what he wanted, who had brought him so much satisfaction. He did not want to merely abandon him now yet could not find the words to properly express how he was feeling. So many things had occurred to him that night -

He inclined his head politely. "Lord Elrond," he said slowly. "I am -"

But Elrond held up a hand. "Do not concern yourself with me, ernilen," he replied with a gentle smile. "You have brought me much joy this evening. I wished to make you happy and I hope I have granted that to you. And I see that what is happening now is also what you yearn for. How could I possibly come between that? Do as your heart tells you and I will also act as you wish."

Legolas felt his respect for Lord Elrond grow even more as he spoke. He smiled at him, wanting to grant his thanks but unsure how to. He was about to try and articulate it when Elrond continued, now turning to Thranduil, watching all this play out before him. "Mellon-nîn," he said. "I am sorry for breaking your trust but I wanted only to act as Legolas asked. I will not ask for your forgiveness, only your understanding. And if I may be so bold as to advise you, I would say not to suppress these feelings. It will cause you much damage. Your love is both true and mutual. Do not be afraid."

Thranduil frowned, turning back to Legolas and brushing a hand across his cheek. "Can I dare to believe that this is correct?" he asked. "Do you feel as deeply as I feel? For many years - many centuries - I have been haunted by these emotions, such corrupt ideas... I never thought they could be reciprocated. I cannot force you, Legolas. Tell me - is this really what you desire?" 

Legolas watched the pain in Thranduil's eyes merge into hope then back again. He smiled, kissing the fingers stroking over his face. "Yes," he breathed. "I understand it now - all the trouble I have been through, all the dreams I have had and the void I have felt for so long. I love you, ada. In so many ways. I love you."

A flicker of joy came to Thranduil's expression to hear these words. He looked long and hard into Legolas' countenance, judging him, searching him, believing in him, then gradually returned his smile, the first the prince had seen in far too much time. "And I love you, iôn-nîn," he whispered. "Do not ever doubt that."

Legolas felt his eyes fill with grateful tears. Immediately, he went to kiss Thranduil again but he stopped him once more, turning again to Elrond. "Mellon-nîn," he said, returning the endearment. "I am not angry with you any longer. I will admit I was disappointed and incensed when I saw you leave with my son, but now, I do understand, as you say. You have done something I could never have anticipated or wished for. For that, I thank you. And for taking such good care of Legolas."

Elrond nodded graciously. "It is my pleasure, Thranduil. You have been through much, as have I. You deserve this." He put a hand over his heart in respect then made to move off of the bed. "But now, I will leave you to each other. I do not want to intrude."

Yet barely had he stood before Legolas intervened, reaching out a hand to stop him. "Wait," he said, quickly glancing at his father to see if this would be appropriate. "You have done much for us tonight, Lord Elrond. I will be ever indebted to you. Please, stay for a while longer."

Elrond paused, looking between the two royal elves. He sighed. "Oh, I do not think I could. You need to be with one another -" 

"No, Elrond." Thranduil cut him off determinedly. "My son is right. You are due our praise. Please, stay. Unless you are prepared to disobey another of my orders."

Despite himself, Elrond chuckled. Legolas saw him slowly relenting to them, coming round to the idea. After a short while, he nodded. "Well, if this is your wish," he said. "Then how can I deny you?" 

The words sparked joy deep in Legolas' heart. Simultaneously, he reached out for both Elrond and Thranduil, pulling one closer and the other down onto the bed. Together, they turned their attention to the king, tugging at the robes draped over his firm body. Thranduil helped them, slipping out of the silken material and sliding down his leggings so he was in the same state of undress as the other two elves. Legolas tried hard not to stare. He had always been aware of his father's beauty but to see him like this in such intimate company, naked and so, so close sent chills up his spine. He moved to touch him, fingers glancing up his chest to his long, elegant throat. Much to his delight, Thranduil returned the gesture, finally connecting with his soft flesh. It was only a light stroke but it made Legolas whimper, aching for more. 

Reassuringly, Elrond took up his place behind Legolas, reaching around to his front and taking Thranduil's hands. With the utmost gentility, he began to guide them over the prince's form, giving him the contact he so hungered for. Legolas' whimper turned to a moan, muscles fluttering. It felt as though everywhere upon him was pulsing, his nerve endings alight with perception. He held onto Thranduil's hips, head dropping forward onto a strong shoulder, urging him, without words, to continue. He was already so incredibly aroused again. As was Thranduil. 

When the king's lips softly brushed his neck, a whisper of his breath ghosting across it, goosebumps blossomed all over his arms and back. He shifted slightly, trying to entice Thranduil to lavish and kiss the receptive skin and soon was graced by his next, beautiful words. "Elrond," his father said. "Tell me - tell me what he likes. What did he enjoy you doing to him?"

Legolas shivered in delight, arching his hips towards the Peredhel to aid him with his answer. A quiet chuckle came from the dark-haired elf. "Here," he said and Legolas felt him slide Thranduil's hands down over his sides and to his buttocks. There was a second of uncertainty before Thranduil pushed past that and acted on Legolas' needs, grasping the taut globes. A cry of approval came from the prince's lips and he squeezed his eyes shut. Hardly any time had passed since his coupling with Elrond but he was already yearning to be taken again, intoxicated by the sensation and enthused with Thranduil's love and lust. He rubbed himself backwards and forwards, hardly knowing what to do with such glorious, ancient beings surrounding him. 

"His ears," Elrond continued suddenly. "He also enjoyed his ears being kissed." 

As if the grasping pressure upon his backside was not enough, Thranduil instantly obeyed this next suggestion and stroked his mouth across the hypersensitive flesh, teeth scraping just a little and heightening the pleasure. Legolas groaned hotly, entrance spasming and constricting, a response Thranduil must have felt. It prompted him on, wet warmth engulfing one of his ears. "Ah -!" Legolas gasped. "Yes..."

Unable to resist, Elrond also joined in, stimulating the other tip. Legolas bucked, whining. He delved his hands into the silver waterfall of his father's hair then did the same to Elrond's, directing their attentive movements to where he wanted them. Soon, he had one kissing at his ear and the other ravaging his neck, driving him mad. His thighs trembled and clenched together, hardly able to keep himself kneeling anymore. And all throughout, their hands ran over his entire body, mapping, massaging, exhilarating him... 

The differences in their treatments were perfect. Even frantic with ecstasy, Legolas could not help but notice them; where Elrond was gentle, Thranduil was more assured and firm in his actions. Elrond lathed more of his scrutiny onto one spot while Thranduil indulged many. Legolas felt indulged by Elrond's ministrations but spoiled and adored under Thranduil's. And both of them - so experienced and wise... He wondered how he could possibly cope much longer.

Trying to control himself, he slid his hands down to touch Thranduil's face, raising his head to look into his eyes. Parting from his decadent treatment, the king returned his dark, amorous gaze, mouth wet and lewdly red. Legolas' heart thumped. "Ada," he murmured, voice shaking from the kisses Elrond still showered upon his neck. "I need you. Want you so badly -"

Thranduil exhaled slowly, a hint of a smile passing over his features. "Iôn-nîn," he said. "I would be more than willing to give that to you. But I don't want to make you do so. Are you sure that this is what you wish?"

Legolas could not reply fast enough. "Yes!" he panted. "Ada, please. I realise now how long I have craved for this, for you, for your love and desire... Please. I need you."

At this, a light flared deep within Thranduil, one of affection, promise, ardour... Nodding in acceptance, he reached for Legolas and kissed his lips, once, twice, three times, over and over, while his hands trailed down his back. Legolas gasped as he found his destination. They had no time or mind to consider the verboten nature of this relationship anymore, nor the hostile views their kith and kin may harbour for it: all that mattered was the adoration they held for each other and this moment, this beautiful, blissful moment...

Legolas clutched fiercely onto Thranduil's shoulders as he reached for the oil and Elrond held him open, both actions allowing the king's fingers to easily penetrate him. He was still loose and slick from his previous fucking so it thankfully did not take very long to prepare him again, Thranduil's touches an immediate pleasure, making his toes curl into the sheets. On a couple of swipes they slid across the gland inside of him and he keened loudly, feeling as though that area was even more sensitive than before.

Soon, he was ready and in a manner as eager as if he were jumping into Thranduil's embrace after long years away (and it almost seemed it really was like that), he wrapped himself around him, lifting his hips helpfully. He couldn't help realising how much Thranduil was trembling, holding onto him as if he would suddenly run off and never come back. He raised his head for a moment, looking deep into his eyes, as profound and mesmerising as ever. "Do not be afraid, ada," he said softly. "We will not perish. We shall make this work."

Another smile, full of admiration for his lovely prince, spread over Thranduil's face. "You give me much hope, Legolas. I believe you," he replied. "But I do not want to hurt you. I wish for this be good. What do you want me to do? How do you wish for me to -"

"Ada," Legolas interrupted, flushing. "I trust you. You will not hurt me. Treat me as you would any other lover."

Thranduil tilted his head, raising one hand to stroke over Legolas' cheek again. "You are not 'any other lover', a'maelamin," he murmured. "But I find comfort in your judgement. Elrond -" He turned to the Peredhel, waiting patiently behind Legolas. "Hold him open for me. We will both ensure his ease."

Legolas quivered at the command, hearing the traces of Thranduil's orderly tone within it. He encircled his arms around his neck and being helped by the two elves, positioned himself to hover over the king's arousal. His breath swiftly came in pants and gasps, knees planted steadily upon the bed. As they began to lower him downwards, he felt like he might cry in anticipation; the feelings inside his breast suddenly seemed as though they would overwhelm him. Thranduil's erection pressed against his entrance and he let out a choked groan before hastily biting his lip. Elrond spread him more, keeping him apart, and oh Valar, Thranduil was going far too slow. He needed more, so much more...

Before he could do otherwise, Legolas dropped his hips and though he knew it would sting, sank almost fully down upon Thranduil's cock. A harsh wail rushed out of both of them, Legolas throwing his head backwards and Thranduil digging his nails into his waist. "Oh gods, Legolas!" he shouted and Legolas may have found his response amusing had the rhapsody not completely taken him over. He closed his eyes, mouth falling open, and even sensed Elrond writhing a little behind him, entranced by the situation he was wrapped up in. 

"Ada -" he sighed, quickly getting used to the feeling of being seated upon him. He was grateful for the way Elrond had slackened him as now he was past the pain and already smothered with need. Thranduil seemed to be in the same state, hands tightly gripping his flesh and throbbing at the urgency to thrust up into his passage.

Attuned to both of their wishes, Legolas nimbly used the king's shoulders as leverage to raise his hips and slide up along Thranduil's arousal until only the head remained inside of him. For a second, he stayed in this position, balanced above him, finding his gaze, locking it with his. Thranduil watched, glowing, and suddenly, time almost appeared to stand still, a moment where just the two of them existed, only for each other, sustained by the emotion and cherishing they held. Tears gathered in Legolas' eyes. He saw every beautiful nuance in Thranduil's expression, felt the tenderness of his fëa reaching out and entwining with his. Immediately, his existence felt complete, wrapped up in Thranduil's care. 

And when he descended again, dipping back down onto him, both of them cried aloud, everything deliriously intensified. Thranduil embraced Legolas close, holding onto his hips, and he lifted himself again then dropped then lifted then dropped. Together, they quickly found a rhythm, an exquisite union. "Oh Valar, ada -" Legolas found he was whimpering, wracked with tremors. "Oh yes, yes -"

Thranduil moaned, just as overcome as his fair son, pushing up when he came down and discovering the ideal force and measure. Elrond's hands joined his on Legolas' waist and they were able to exaggerate it, thumping with eroticism. "Legolas -" he said reverently. 

And soon, as they joined again, the sensual little place inside the prince was brushed, causing him to nigh on scream. He squirmed upon Thranduil's erection, moving so it was rubbed over and over, and drops of opalescent liquid started to seep in greater quantities onto the king's thighs. Legolas whined, burying his head against his father's neck. It was amazing, torturously so. He could barely withstand it...

Whispering affectionately to him, Thranduil still helped him onwards, beginning to kiss and nibble at his ear. Legolas tried to return the favour but he could barely breathe enough to do so, throat sore with his cries. Tears now spilt unstoppably from his eyes, soaking his cheeks and Thranduil's own skin. He soon realised he was sobbing, the centuries and centuries of suppressed feelings far too powerful to withhold. He clung on as though Thranduil was the only thing he had left, but maybe that was true. He was the only thing, the only one...

Racing towards an inevitable climax, Legolas squeezed his arms around Thranduil's chest, a sheen of sweat shining across his body. The last words he could utter flowed from his lips over and over again, interspersed with frantic gasps. "Ada, ada, I love you, I love you," he chanted adoringly, in pace with his rocking and bouncing. Thranduil stroked through his damp hair, softly at first until his own need took over and his hands turned to fists, clinging in the curling strands. He quietly echoed some of the endearments. Legolas' eyes crossed and rolled back in pleasure.

A few more pushes up into him, dragging across the secret inner gland, and that was all it took. Suddenly, the whole world seemed to ring in Legolas' hearing. His muscles clenched all over, his mouth dropped open, his entire form stilled. The peak which he had long been awaiting abruptly crashed down upon him, stealing any of the inhibitions which were yet left to his conscience. 

With a wail, he threw back his head and gave himself completely over. Blood rushed in his ears, heart thumping so loudly he swore all of Mirkwood could hear it. And if they didn't hear that, they surely heard the high scream he let out, the crux of his delight displayed in that one, carnal sound. His legs trembled, his fingers clasped onto Thranduil, his voice broke. It was so good, so intense, so consuming... Almost too, too much...

He did not know how long his orgasm lasted for but the next time he came round, he was lying on the bed, looking up into his father's and Elrond's eyes. To see him awake, Thranduil gave a sated, pleased smile, reaching to help him sit against the headboard. "Are you alright, iôn-nîn?" he asked gently. Legolas looked around gradually then nodded. 

"Yes, I am fine..." he said, a little dazed. "What - what happened?"

"You passed out briefly," Thranduil explained. "That must have been quite a finish."

Legolas blushed red. He was undoubtedly embarrassed to be in such a situation but so satisfied that he did not pay much heed to that. "It was," he replied. "Thank you."

"No," Thranduil said. "It is you I must thank, meleth-nîn. You have given me more than I could ever wish for. I finally feel promise reappearing in my reach."

Legolas nodded. "I will say the same to you, ada. I do not feel so lost and weighed down anymore. Thank you. For everything."

Legolas saw Thranduil beam, a most stunning sight, before he dropped his head to the side in fatigue. For one of the first times in many years, the prince thought he could barely move from exhaustion. Deliciously weary, he lay splayed upon the sheets and only shifted his position to allow both Elrond and Thranduil to clean the traces of three elves' essence from his body, soft touches that calmed him even more. Soon he perceived the impression of reality drift from his body so he was left with just the ability to hear and feel certain dull sensations. Somewhere near him, Thranduil and Elrond were talking, gentle voices floating through the air.

"Thank you again, mellon-nîn," his father was saying. "We will ever be grateful to you. I am sure Legolas would say the same if he had the power to." He chuckled. "Never have I seen him so tired."

Elrond laughed also. "He is most exquisite, Thranduil," he said. "In many ways. I hope that you find peace in one another, in whatever manner. As I said, you truly deserve it."

"I would do anything for him," Thranduil muttered and even in his dreamy state, Legolas smiled. "I wish that he could stay under my shelter forever."

"Let us only think of joyful future times tonight, Thranduil. You have discovered something beautiful this evening. And to see you happy brings some tranquility to my heart, as strange as that may sound. I hope it has for you also."

Thranduil paused and Legolas felt a hand glance over his hair. "Yes," he said. "It has."

The gentle caress of harmony spread through Legolas, relaxing him completely. He wanted to reach out to Thranduil but found he did not have the strength. For a while, his presence left him but as soon as Elrond had quietly departed, his father came to his side again, sliding beneath the covers and pulling him close. Moaning, he was turned to fit into his secure embrace. For the rest of the night they rested, in the comfort and care of each other's arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:
> 
> Elleth - female elf  
> Peredhel - half-elf  
> Valar - the Powers of the World  
> Ernilen - (my) prince  
> Lirimaer - lovely one  
> Ada - father/daddy/dad  
> Mellon-nîn - my friend  
> Iôn-nîn - my son  
> Fëa - soul  
> Meleth-nîn - my love


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Final part of this fic! Thank you sooo much for for all your feedback, it means so much, you're so sweet :) I'm very glad you've enjoyed this story. It's the longest (finished) one I've completed on here and my longest Tolkien one. At times, it went off but I hope it's been good for you to read. Hope you enjoy this last part of it :)

Days later, Elrond looked once again upon the edge of the woodland halls, gazing forward into the forest and the journey he would later have to take back to Imladris. Upon arriving in this realm, he had been almost hesitant, if he was honest, having not seen his friend, the king, for many a year, and unsure of the reception they would gain from him. Rumours had spread of his haughtiness and hostility, isolated in his darkened fortress in the midst of the Wild. Elrond had not been one to listen to gossip but after knowing the elf in his youth, being aware of his strong character - to put it rather mildly, he had been all too willing to believe it may hold some truth.

When they stepped foot into Thranduil's citadel, or more so when they approached his imposing throne, he had thought the whispers would soon come to light, such was the expression upon the ruler's face. He was mysterious, still guarded even when speaking with Elrond in private, and a kind of protective icy shield seemed always to surround him. Of course, the Peredhel was familiar with his history, familiar with the despair that had fallen him - few elves escaped without tragedy in their long lives - but his untouchability appeared alien, even so. If the hushed talk about him had turned out to be reality, he had vowed not to become like the king, not in the face of the malice that had befallen him also. He would deal with his pain in different ways.

Now, the day of departure back to his own land, he wondered if what had happened between him and Legolas had been one of those ways. Before taking the lovely elf to bed, he had considered that as the reason, and for all he thought, it was probably the main explanation. Legolas was desolate and obviously morose being in such a confined realm, under the will of his powerful father, and irritated by doubts about what lay beyond the enclosed borders. To have someone from the elusive outside world tell him of it had brought some light into his eyes, the sort Elrond had been privileged to see earlier in his life. He desired greatly to make that little illumination glow brighter; and when he was wrapped in his arms, moaning in pleasure and abandon, cares thrown to the wind, he had almost pulsated with lustre. 

It would have been enough for Elrond but he soon came to realise that it was not enough for Legolas, despite his intense euphoria in the heat of the moment. To his infinite surprise, Thranduil had come to them, the lonely, forsaken king, and Legolas had confessed a love and need that was deeply rare and forbidden between two so close in kinship. Even in his wisdom and experience of the world, it had been something Elrond had not been witness to, or heard of, often at all. But the strength of the adoration that bloomed in Legolas, and the affection which spilled from Thranduil, seemingly unbridled by Legolas' words, had convinced him of its purity. In a few moments, he understood at least some of the oppression which had been pushed upon the two elves, strangling them and torturing them for who knew how long. 

Deep inside, he knew that he had not been entirely unselfish with making love to Legolas, fondling and touching him in passion. From the minute he first saw him, he had felt a throbbing yearning for him, to possess him in the way of amorous lovers. He was beautiful, both in body and soul, and to cherish him would be easy and a great honour. 

He had no idea that he would lose him to so unexpected a partner, but in honesty, he was never really his to lose. Legolas was no one's but himself, yet his heart evidently belonged to Thranduil, the love he felt spanning so many different forms and manifestations of the emotion. Elrond had been happy to aid them in their uncommon unity with one another, if merely in order to see the delight that it brought them both. And, as he had told Thranduil again and again over the past week, they deserved it.

In turn, it had brought peace to Elrond's own heart. To instil some unique joy into the halls of Mirkwood had not been his mission upon arriving there but it had turned out to be a satisfying result. His last two centuries had been fraught with turmoil, the loss of his wonderful wife cutting deep into his fëa, a scar that would never depart from him. It would ever haunt him, the way he had not been able to solace her, had not been able to keep her in Middle Earth, but by offering happiness to another - in this case, Legolas and Thranduil - it had assured him of his abilities to still love and hold. He was not devoid of the skill of making others jubilant. Even if he would never truly feel it again. 

But he would still strive towards it. To see Thranduil, the product of so much hardship, rising to finding some contentment, gave him hope. Celebrían had made him vow to be joyful until they saw each other again and now, he could perceive some brightness upon the distant horizon, at least. He had never expected to discover it here, not in the dark depths of the woodland realm. But, as they sat at its heart, waiting to say farewell to their hosts in a few hours, he could not help smiling. He had awoken with warmth inside of him, the serenity of accomplishment and the future, and that was something he was determined to grasp onto. His children looked at him oddly, as if they found something wrong with him, something amiss in their father, but for the morning, they had laughed together, untainted and fair, for the first time in so long. Their own lights joined his, battling more of the bleakness within him. 

Now, he could not believe he was feeling almost pitiful to leave the realm of Thranduil behind. He did not know what their encounter, their subsequent discussions, the discovery of something else so dear to the elf, would mean for the coming days. He would be lying if he said he did not want Thranduil to unbind some of the chains around his home, to open it up to the world about him and to those who he could ally and work with. He had been many millennia in the shadows, a figure in darkened self-appointed exile, and to see his presence more would please Elrond greatly. To have their old friendship rekindled would be a privilege. And to see the barriers of Mirkwood fall away, the depths opening, to give and receive, to interact with the rest of the places she had abandoned, or that had abandoned her... It would be a matter of untold consequence.

But Elrond did not know Thranduil, inside. For all he knew, the attainment of another precious jewel in his kingdom may enclose it even more. What would come to pass in the mind of the woodland king, and his home, was not something anyone, not even Galadriel, could possibly foretell.

A long week after arriving, having had such momentous occasions happen during that, Elrond felt a vast mix of emotions surging through him. He was glad for it, to sense and feel the differences after the years of disaster. Although he did not know what he was leaving behind in Mirkwood, he hoped that, in Imladris, the future would be clear in its tranquility, at least for a while. The purity of the valley would continue to stand against the darkness, aided by their trust and belief. He felt blessed that this may have been enhanced through this short, previously uncertain visit. 

He hoped that the gifts that had been born by it would flourish over the approaching times. 

~~~

After living so long in the darkness of the woods, Thranduil had almost forgotten what pure, shining sunlight looked like. He had become accustomed to the shadows of the forest, the arched canopies of the leaves covering the skies above, the embrace of ancient trees. They did not question his intents, they did not peer down upon his actions; in the confines of the bleakness, no one, not even ones who could, dared to breathe a word about what he had done. They suffered together, they built their own world together, they looked towards and faced their own troubles. Many millennia had passed and Thranduil almost found comfort in their dissolution. 

He had fretted that maybe, somehow, inviting others to the realm would breach it, would invade its sanctity. It had been long since he had been able to fully trust another who was not his own kin: and of that, he only had one member left. But for the others - it was not their thoughts of Mirkwood's lonely king that he worried about, yet the poison they may bring with them. The land and its people had tasted enough of it, the toxicity lying deep in their veins and home. It, and they, needed no more.

However, days on, a sensation which he barely recognised as rare gratefulness coursed through him. Before their coming, he had thought he would be left with nothing but tolerance and indifference within, yet something else had been granted to him. 

Dare he say that alongside that gratefulness, was hope? 

He had felt that emotion so little that he had almost wondered if he was capable of it anymore. Certainly the depths of Mirkwood, his heart and soul as it may be, was a place were few buds of faith grew. 

But to awake in the mornings with Legolas nestled in his arms, warm and gentle, was a gratuity of much joy. He had never thought that he would find happiness - as ephemeral or permanent as time would tell - in this way, though he found he he could not detain himself from it. Legolas smiled - such a beautiful, genuine smile - each day when he arose to reality in the comfort of his bed and by the Valar, Thranduil did not ever want to erase that sight. His son was a treasure - his greatest and dearest - and he wished every hour that Legolas could live a life different to his own had been. To please him and make him glad was one of Thranduil's greatest wishes,

He thanked Elrond for what he had done, despite not revering it at the start. The wise Lord of Imladris had encouraged them, coaxed their desires which had festered and hidden for years, and allowed them to explore them as truthfully as if they had been mere young lovers. Thranduil would never forget how it had felt to hold Legolas like that for the first time. Secrets even he hadn't known about had rushed to the surface, the answer to all the dark clouds that had been hanging over him, the inexplicable longings given form.

He loved him. And he loved him back.

Still, the notion of it aroused muddled feelings inside of Thranduil. From one point of view, this is what he had craved for, a clandestine, unknown yearning that had bitten at his fëa for centuries. Legolas responded to him willingly, needfully, uttering words of utmost affection and encouragement. After Lord Elrond had left them, Legolas had awoken from his stupor and they had conversed long into the night about what they were embroiled in. His prince had opened his heart to him and laid bare his deepest thoughts with love in his tones. Thranduil could not deny such honesty - this is what Legolas wanted, he had repeated that time and time again.

Thranduil knew that this was what he wanted too - that was impossible to refute. He desired to spoil and lavish Legolas with the most profound gifts - after all, that was what this party had been for in the first place. His son was the most wonderful gem in all his world, even though he may not show that often.

But that was the chief reason for the hesitancy also blooming within him. By pursuing this contraband relation, he feared he would lose Legolas, that they would lack something between them, displaced by their passion. He couldn't bear such an idea as having Legolas slip through his fingers, to abandon the kinship so sacred to them. At the most basic level of what they were doing, it was wrong. It was something to be ashamed and reviled by. Even as he again made love to Legolas that morning, hearing his erotic babbling in his ear, feeling the raw ecstasy of their frenzy, he doubted himself. 

Maybe it was because of what had happened. Maybe it was because he was not used to attaining the happiness he desired.

Either way, he was not fully settled with the idea of their new bond yet. He would not give up on them - to do so would tear both of their souls apart - but it would take time. The shock of the situation had still not passed by. 

And, in the quiet tranquility of the sunrise, Legolas had suddenly turned to him and spoken the words rattling in his brain as well. 

"What about her?" he had whispered. 

He had not answered - he could not at the time. For all the pondering he had done, he could still not face voicing the betrayal they had wilfully committed. Legolas had tried to convince him that it was alright, they she had pleaded for them to find contentment before she had passed, that it was she, as a Silvan of the woods, who had spoken to Thranduil of following love no matter what form it came in. Thranduil found he could not be swayed by Legolas' words but when seeking out Elrond, one who had similarly lost somebody dear to him, he was surprised to hear he said the same things. Mourning would yet deepen the fracture, he advised. It was not cold-hearted to focus on their own joy, especially when their wives had so wished for it before leaving this world. They would ever remember them, of course, nothing could stop that. But the elleths' memories did not prevent their remaining happiness; it would be disrespectful to them to forget that. And both had been great fanciers of speaking their own thoughts, ones who were braver than many warriors - surely, they would chuckle at their husbands' hesitancies.

It seemed to Thranduil that both Elrond and Legolas were making peace with the notion. But still, the king dithered, agitated by his imaginings. He would always be bound to his wife; an Elvish custom that few had strayed from and which would always remain inside him, yet other pieces of his heart felt as though they could simply be rent in half without these new emotions. Honestly, he did not know what she would think. As his son and Elrond had said, she was a champion of both their happiness, striving for it in many ways, but this - this was unique. So very, very unique.

Despite the conflict within, though, there was no denying the light Legolas brought to him. As his son, his companion, his warrior, his advisor, his lover... No, that was not the word for it. Nothing could quite sum up what Legolas was to him. Their form of adoration was forbidden and frowned upon but verily, the way he loved him was untainted - there was nothing he would ever do to hurt him or force him. And many said that if love was true, the Valar would have mercy and understanding upon them, no matter where it came from. 

He wondered if that was how his wife would think of it also. Maybe he would visit her sanctuary in the palace today - a room dedicated solely to her warmth and life - and face up to what he had feared. There were few other ways he thought he could find harmony with this situation. 

Upon visiting Elrond earlier to speak of this, he had also seemed to pine for something more. All knew about the isolation Thranduil imposed on his kingdom and the strength of the borders around it. It did not take long for Thranduil to recognise what it was Elrond was hinting at. He wanted Thranduil to be more open, more willing to accept and garner help for those outside his home. No doubt the circumstances which had occurred between them and Legolas had prompted this idea. 

Again, though, Thranduil had been unable to respond to these hopes of Elrond, unspoken and not. For all he thought, it would be a rash decision to act so quickly, to abandon all that he and his father had worked towards for millennia. Although the aid Elrond had brought to them was appreciated, he would not make any promises, not for a future no one could see. Years of caution could not suddenly be turned away from. There was still dread and horror lurking in the world beyond, looking for any hint of weakness to penetrate in. 

And there was much in his life he wished to guard.

Now, mere hours before Elrond and his party returned back to Imladris, he knew that the Peredhel would be leaving behind a different situation to the one he entered into. Thranduil did not know what the results of this would be, although the heady, strange feeling that not everything would be the same filled him with peculiarity. Usually change meant a darkening of his heart, something that would eat away at the foundations he had built and maintained obsessively. But this time... It was unfamiliar. For a reason he knew not, Thranduil found he was smiling upon walking to his throne room.

Whatever it was, they would endure, as they always had striven to.

And as he strode through the halls, he couldn't help noticing elusive rays of sunshine gleaming through the windows, bathing his path in temporary gold.

~~~

In the few days that Mirkwood had had guests, Legolas could not believe how much had changed. He had feared that their arrival would do nothing more than upset his father's carefully upheld systems and control for a short time, disturb the ways the king went about, and when they left, they would leave no trace that could not be cleared easily. It was an obvious idea; for many of his years, he had hardly seen a soul come through those gates that did not inhabit the realm - he did not think an outsider could so impact such a tightly regimented land. But, waking on the last morning of their stay, cradled in Thranduil's arms, head buried in his shoulder, it was almost as if he was existing in another world. 

Before the parties came from their respective homes, he had never dared to wish for anything more inside the woodland realm. There had been no more he could see himself, or any other, having within this isolated fortress. He bore his troubles, as all did, until they almost became commonplace: the kingdom of suffering beneath the heavy darkened trees. It was something he could never imagine changing, not with his father's seemingly eternal stubbornness and morose nature. He refused anything and everything else, the broken hermit in the East. Legolas knew he was acutely aware of the areas beyond the borders yet he merely chose to ignore them for concern of what may spread to their own lives, what may infect their ravaged halls. 

But then, for a simple week only - not even a second in time for an elf, usually - others had come, from Imladris, from Lothlórien, entering under the sacred boughs of the woods. The prince did not question it, only appreciated the differing faces at his celebrations. He did not entertain any hope of this breaking his father's policies. 

Even now, after much had become unfamiliar in his life, he still did not know what it meant for the realm's solitude and exile. But he could not think of such things yet. Warmth and joy coursed too sharply through his fëa, such an elusive feeling, that he had no mind for much else, only the sudden reprieve from the despair of old, it seemed. 

He would ever be grateful to Lord Elrond for what he had brought to them. Firstly for his caring, diligent treatment of him, the way he had evoked such arousal between them and explored him like no other had. And also for opening up thoughts and ideas within him that had only ever inhabited the very corners of his mind, irritating him without knowledge of what they truly were. The dreams had frightened him but now when they came to him, they were filled with light and acceptance, or occurred in honest reality. The depths of misunderstanding were at an end.

For Thranduil to take him in his arms that night only so recently and kiss him and touch him and commit all his love upon him was exquisite. His heart and soul felt so free and so light that he thought he could soar. Elrond had helped them, encouraged Thranduil alongside Legolas, and together, they had found something that they never truly knew they needed but now craved so passionately for.

After Elrond had left and they had been alone, Legolas had talked with his father for hours until the sun had risen over the dark arches of the woods. He loved him in so many senses of the word and none negated another. He loved him as a father, as a king, as a protector, as one to protect himself, as a lover... He ached with the adoration which suddenly arose in him, years of unknown repression breaking under it. Shadows lifted from even the deepest recesses, giving way to passion and exuberance he could not deny.

Amongst this assault, nothing felt wrong or deviant. He knew many would frown upon this strange relationship, this overstepping of the boundaries of blood ties, yet ever since he had supported Thranduil into his bed, he had barely considered such things. To his mind, their affection was nothing but pure and fair. Such a love had the power to tear them asunder if it was ceased.

Thranduil still hesitated, he knew. The ancient elf had been through much in his long life and though Legolas was eager to allow the fruits of this adoration to grow, he was ever aware of his father's lingering uncertainty. He did not wish for this to harm them, to bring them more despair. Thranduil's decisions were never entered into brashly or without ponderous consideration. The prince could do nothing but respect that. He had patience, as all elves did. He would aid his father, he would do all in his reach to make him comfortable, as he had for him his entire life.

Still, deep in Thranduil's eyes, he could see the burning glow of adoration, ready to burst through without hindrance once his frets had been allayed. Legolas already could notice some of them falling away in the strength of their unity, the promise of precious hope consuming all. For the first time in too long, the other morning, his father had smiled genuinely, pressing his lips to his forehead and embracing him close. In a few short moments, he was no longer the stoic, icy ruler of the forsaken kingdom but a warm, gentle elf displaying his care and devotion.

Legolas had not seen that side of him since before his mother had disappeared. Though many centuries had passed since that day, her memory would ever linger on the halls. Certainly, she still influenced much of what his father did, the queen ruling on in spirit. He knew Thranduil must be thinking of her in this unfamiliar time. After their first night in each other's arms, Legolas had been quick to visit her sanctuary in the palace, to receive her thoughts. The little room had been her favourite place in life and when the prince entered into it, her presence still could be felt there. That morning, there had been nothing but peace and tranquility within its four walls, no malice or disapproval that he was sure he would have sensed had she been angry with them. She had never been one to hide her opinions; a trait which the young princeling had greatly admired.

Her words would always echo in his brain, pieces of advice which he would hold in his heart until the world no longer turned. She had told him once that when she and his father met, it had been she who convinced him of their bond and who urged him onwards. He had been halting, she said, afraid of what might come to them if something unpleasant may happen. But she had insisted that their happiness would outweigh that. A Silvan of the woods Thranduil's Sindarin kin had entered into, their positions and lifestyles were far apart. Yet she had spoken that love should not be forced to stop, no matter what form it took. That was the only thing they should be afraid of.

Legolas was not afraid anymore. For now, as far as he knew, the worries of the world crumbling beyond their doorstep had been settled by Elrond's words to him at the party, and in the long sought-for conversations with others over the last week. And within the realm, Thranduil had returned to his side, no longer seeming so distant.

If it was what it took for this closeness to continue to bloom, he could wait a little longer. The joy in his heart was bold enough to endure.

Now, it was the day of the guests' departure, and he was sorry to see them go. Such a touch and effect they had had on the kingdom, one that would surely linger. He had already insisted his obligation to Lord Elrond over and over again for his actions and advice but still, as he approached the gates where they would say farewell, he still felt as though he had not done enough. The Peredhel had astounded him with his honourable character and wisdom. If nothing more adapted in his father's policies, he hoped more frequent visits to, or from, the Lord of Imladris could be arranged.

A bright morning had merged into a pleasant afternoon and when Legolas stepped outside beyond the bridge, the image of Mirkwood almost seemed unfamiliar. Not for many centuries had he seen it so bathed in gold and light or so still in its tranquility. It appeared that the Valar looked happily down upon them all, this day secure from any of the turmoil in the world. The prince was gratified to see that many members of the leaving groups had smiles upon their faces, laughing and joking amongst themselves.

For a while, Legolas was content to simply watch the other elves, gaining a rare glimpse at those beyond his home. Even in the small ways they moved and talked, they were unlike his kith and kin of the forest. It was something that he had never really considered, having met so few from outside of the woods. But to observe them was somewhat relaxing and comforting. The ideas of bringing such separate souls into the realm may be healthy for it, refreshing the land and breathing new life into it, no matter how ancient many of these elves were. 

His father would not like him admitting this but that turn of events had appeared to be a positive thing. The tranquility was tangible, easing his body and fëa as he moved throughout the trees. 

Even Thranduil, who soon arrived with his guards, seemed to notice the difference. For a moment, he paused beside Legolas and the prince could see the sparkle in his eyes, the realisation that something had changed in his realm. He stood there, gaze reflecting the sunlight through the canopies, and then slowly breathed in and out, as if drinking in the fresh sweetness of the air. A smile pulled at the corners of his lips. He turned to Legolas, a look of untainted mirth in his expression. The calmness of the woods had seemed to stretch its careful embrace around him also.

Together, they advanced over to the gatherings of their visitors, coming to stand before them. All turned at the presence of the king and his prince, listening to what matters Thranduil had to say. Legolas was pleased to hear a dulcet tone to his voice, accentuating the announcements of appreciation and good will he spoke to them, thanking all for their coming and kind stays. It was no more beyond a speech of custom but Legolas enjoyed listening to it all the same, having never been able to before. And to hear the genuine affability in his father's voice was a further nicety.

Although he had not been asked to add anything more, he found he could not help saying a few statements himself, echoing Thranduil's acknowledgement with his own generosity. Many nodded in response but nothing truly else - most had already said their goodbyes before, in a less formal setting, to the prince they had been so courteous to over the last few days.

However, neither Legolas nor Thranduil could allow Elrond to leave back to Imladris without a few further words with him. While the others prepared for their journey home, they made sure to briefly accost him once more, walking him to a quieter space off the busy road. Thranduil spoke to him first, granting him many gracious praises and reiterating words already affectionately uttered. Elrond took them politely but shook his head, insisting the king's mercy was exaggerated. It was simply not just he who had incurred the events of the previous days. Legolas supposed he was correct yet could not ever see the Lord of Imladris as unimportant in their transpiring - without him, he was not sure where they would be now - probably not much different from how they had been a week ago. He thanked him thoroughly, waving off Elrond's modest dismissals.

However, it was Thranduil who soon surprised him the most. When the Peredhel had been filled to the brim with gratitude, he stopped him once more before he headed back to his own company, offering over a rare gift. Legolas was overjoyed to hear of it. His father, distancing himself briefly from his rigid laws, allowed Elrond freer access to his woods, effectively approving further visits in the future. Elrond's eyes had sparkled at this, maybe not so much at the favour but what it meant for Thranduil's frame of mind. He accepted it with a smile, one which was outshone only by the neighbouring glow in Legolas' expression. In an action of utter friendship, he put a hand over his heart and in turn, permitted the two elves to take up residence in his land whenever convenient. 

The opening of mutual homes was a token of genuine trust and regard. Legolas was proud and enchanted to hear it come from his father's lips. The visage of Elrond's face showed his awareness also.

So, when the Peredhel rejoined his convoy for Imladris, Legolas nodded to his father, trying to convey all of his joy in that one look. Thranduil smiled to him and together, they ascended to the heights above the citadel to watch the parties venture between the trees away from their lands. Both could agree much had changed since they had come.

Soon, Thranduil dismissed his guards back to the fortress and once alone, he entwined his fingers through Legolas' and raised his hand to press his lips to it. Legolas sighed a little, somewhat surprised at but enjoying the feeling. Light gleamed in Thranduil's blue eyes. "I will be sorry to see them go," he said quietly. Legolas beamed, the statement evoking deeply emotional sentiments within him. He tried to respond but the words became stuck, weighed down with the joy in his heart.

Thranduil seemed to understand these thoughts in his head. Softly, he reached out and stroked his cheek with the back of his hand. Legolas trembled, yet leaned in willingly as he placed a tender kiss upon his mouth, embracing him in the most loving of ways. All the doubts Thranduil had previously harboured had appeared to disappear; the caress of the forest, the brightness of the sun, the healing hands of the sanctuary Legolas knew he had visited working together to lighten his fëa. He wanted to hold onto him forever, to find peace for a while in each other's harmony. He passionately kissed him back, unable to contain the seas of adoration much longer. The force of them met with Thranduil's, merging into a heady, boundless ocean. It was beyond any description.

When they at last pulled away, looking deep into one another's eyes, they grinned and laughed gently, darkness so far away it almost felt intangible for once. Light spilled through the canopies, illuminating everything in a comforting grace. Down below, the distant sound of laughter reached their ears. All was a moment of pleasure, of delight and serenity. 

"Come," Thranduil said eventually though, brushing his lips once more across Legolas' fingers. "Let us return home. Your company is a fair promise."

Legolas smiled once again, echoing the blissful countenance of his father and seeing only hope within it. The idea contentedly blocked all else out. Side by side, they walked, descending back down the green hill and safe and secure in the promise of the care and love bestowed upon them.

**Author's Note:**

> Translations:
> 
> Peredhel - half-elf   
> Fëa - soul  
> Valar - the Powers of Arda   
> Elleth - female elf


End file.
